


Hexapod

by Arowen12



Category: Bleach
Genre: Academy Era, M/M, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shunsui has ADHD, Time Travel, Trans Character, vaguely referenced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-09-15 23:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16942377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arowen12/pseuds/Arowen12
Summary: “There was a new student, he had bright orange hair, the kind that looked like captured fire. Ichigo. Who knows, a lot can change in a year.”Ichigo’s arrival at the academy brings a change to Jushiro’s life, his relationship with Shunsui and the world around him. He just doesn’t realise it yet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, here again with another Bleach fic. This one is a romance fic (wow) and will likely have some explicit stuff later on which will be posted on AO3. Also, I'll try to update this weekly. But yes, this story does have time travel however, it is more background to the focus on the relationship between Jūshirō, Shunsui, and Ichigo. Oh, and the main POV is Jūshirō. I hope you all enjoy and read on!
> 
> Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo

X

There was a new student, it wasn't hard to miss with the small class size settled in the room. It was one of their lecture days and the second-year students, who were separated into three categories were all familiar with each other; if not intimately so. The point remained that there was a new student settled awkwardly on the outskirts of the semi-circle. He had bright orange hair, the kind that looked like captured fire, it was a colour that Jūshirō was almost inclined to believe was impossible and it made him question his own vision for a moment.

Shunsui, who was pretending to read a book but was actually reading erotica, looked up when Jūshirō none too kindly elbowed his friend. The other student spluttered and flashed a pout that was meant to be endearing but was more annoying, in Jūshirō's direction. Shaking his head at his friend's antics Jūshirō arched a brow and tilted his head in the direction of the new student. Shunsui's brows scrunched together as he followed Jūshirō's hint, inside he mourned his friend's lack of tact, before Shunsui's eyes widened and he traded an astonished glance with Jūshirō.

"Was he in class yesterday?"

His friend asked in a stage-whisper that has the attention of the surrounding students in a matter of moments. Jūshirō muffled a smile in the sleeve of his shihakusho and shook his head, the colour of the new student's hair was far too bright to miss. Conversation erupted among the small group of students in muted whispers, the new student remained unaware staring at the front of the classroom with a bland expression.

"Have you heard anything?"

Jūshirō questioned his friend with a tilt of his head, framing the question so that anyone so inclined could supply the information. Shunsui hummed for a moment, leaning back on his palms and stroking a finger over the katana at his side. After a moment of drawn-out expectant silence Jūshirō raised a brow in annoyance and Shunsui relented with a grin that made Jūshirō's heart flutter whenever it was directed his way; more often than not it was the same devil may care smile he tossed at the nearest woman.

"Rumours are he appeared out of nowhere, literally out of Rungokai like some of the rest, but not a street brat. Showed Yam-jii his zanpaktou or something and entered the academy. There's not much on him, hasn't said much since he arrived."

Shunsui told him with a serious air as if lecturing to the class, Jūshirō's lips curled of their own accord at his friend's mannerisms. Tilting his head Jūshirō caught Shunsui staring and vaguely wondered if there was something on his face before he asked, "So a complete mystery?"

"I heard word he's nobility, but no one would claim him."

Megumi Kuse interjected flicking the inky curtain of hair over her shoulder, the round curve of her lips shaping the sentence into a grin. Jūshirō nodded his thanks for the information and smiled at the woman who winked before turning to talk to her friends. Returning his attention to Shunsui, Jūshirō caught a frown playing across his friend's features and gently chided, "Just because Megumi refused to date you, doesn't mean you should hate her. Your charm doesn't work on every woman you meet Shu."

Shunsui startled slightly at the words before smiling apologetically rubbing a hand through the curly hair at the back of his head he responded, "Ma you're right Ju. Still, what do you think the new student will be like?"

Their teacher entered before Jūshirō could attempt to formulate a response, she was a striking woman with the violet hair of the Shihōin clan in a short bob about her face, though streaks of silver were beginning to line the rich colour, golden eyes, and the sharp lines reminiscent of a feline. Shihōin-san was their Shunpo and Hohō teacher, so the occurrence of a lecture-based lesson was indeed rare considering it was a very tactile field of subject.

Her eyes swept over the gathered students quelling the whispers to silence before her gaze landed on the new student. A small smile, one that softened the harshness of her features appeared and she turns to the class before announcing, "Everyone we have a new student, as I'm sure you have all observed," she commented dryly before continuing, "This is Ichigo Kuro, he will be joining your group for the rest of your second year, please treat him with respect."

Jūshirō pitied Kuro-san as the eyes of twenty students who had been looking everywhere but at the new student suddenly centred on him. Kuro-san didn't appear to notice, he nodded politely once to Shihōin-san before his gaze returned to the floor. It was a strange gesture, one that stirred his skin to chills for the emptiness of it.

"Kuro-san has an interesting name huh?"

Shunsui questioned as he leant close to Jūshirō squishing his shoulder against his, he nodded and silently thought the name was something one chose for oneself rather than a family name. The new student was certainly living up the expectation of mystery.

A rap on the floor gathered the class' attention once more as Shihōin-san stared at them with her arms crossed over her chest with a grin that was far from pleasant as she stated, "That's enough gossip get ready to write until your hands cramp and your eyes fall out of their sockets. We're going to be discussing the theory behind Hohō and Shunpo because frankly most of you are terrible."

Shunsui traded a glance with Jūshirō as they pulled out their paper and ink, it was one of long-suffering. Most of the theory was supposed to be covered in their first year but as their teacher stated, some of the students in their group were absolutely abysmal at the skill. It didn't help that their first teacher had died half-way through the course. Shihōin-san began to speak and Jūshirō attempted to absorb the words and translate them into a language that both he and Shunsui would comprehend.

X

They were about to stumble their way out of the classroom, Shunsui was leaning against Jūshirō with the gaze of a man who had just woken from an unpleasant dream, Jūshirō felt much the same with the added bonus of cramped hands when Shihōin-san called their names. Trading a glance of foreboding doom, the two students turned to face their teacher, who leaned against the desk in a display of the sinew strength that had served her well during her captaincy.

"Yamamoto-taicho wishes to see you two in his office."

The words were stated without inflexion and Jūshirō had to wonder if Yamamoto-taicho had found the culprits of the recent prank that left half of the students' robes bright pink. Shunsui must have been of the same thought the same for his skin was pale though he hid it behind a short bow, Jūshirō repeated the motion and glanced at his friend out of the corner of his eyes.

Shihōin-san dismissed them with a nod and a curl of her lips that was positively feline, he wondered if she knows who the culprits were. There was a small mercy, Jūshirō supposed as they exited the class, that their Hohō class was the last scheduled for the day so at least they wouldn't be missing another class.

They walked side by side down the hallway in the pleasant sunlight of the early afternoon filtering in through the windows, in the distance Jūshirō could hear the rattle of kunai striking against one another. The pleasant day did little to diminish the feeling of the executioner's blade hanging over their necks.

Shunsui smiled in reassurance at Jūshirō which earned a raised brow and a swat. Honestly, the nerve of his friend! Shunsui had assured Jūshirō that they wouldn't be caught, even if it was Jūshirō who had planned the entire prank in the first place. Shunsui pouted at the action and shoved his shoulder against Jūshirō's with a grin that made Jūshirō's cheeks blossom with warmth.

Then they were at the Soutaicho's office, the Fourth seat stood in front of the doorway looking incredibly bored as she stared ahead as still as a statue, Jūshirō wasn't certain if she was even blinking. The woman stirred as they approached and with a light, barely noticeable, incline of her head stepped aside and opened the heavy doors. Trading a final glance of prayer with each other the two students entered the office.

Jūshirō was always impressed by Yamamoto-taicho's office, it wasn't overly large so as to impose, but was simple and therefore all the more elegant for it; with symmetrical windows, cherry wood panelling, and ebony furniture the room felt natural and neutral. The Soutaicho was seated at his desk signing a document with a look of displeasure, to their surprise Kuro-san, the new student, was seated in front of the desk staring idly out the window with a blank expression.

Yamamoto-taicho glanced up at their entrance and waved the two students inside gesturing to the cushions placed in front of his desk, his expression gave away nothing. Trading a glance of surprise, the two students complied sharing a look that conveyed their confusion at the situation. They hadn't expected Kuro-san to be here, and they had expected Yamamoto-taicho to enter into a lecture at the first sight of them; that or have them sit in uncomfortable silence aware of what they had done.

The Soutaicho set his brush down with a quiet click and steepled his fingers in front of his chest. His gaze searched Jūshirō and Shunsui with all the blazing power of his zanpaktou before it switched to Kuro-san and the expression softened ever so slightly.

"These were the students I was telling you about, they have achieved excellent marks in all of their classes and are prodigies among their peers; even for all their mischief," Jūshirō resisted the urge to swallow nervously at the knowing slide of dark eyes before the Soutaicho continued, "I am hoping they will agree to show you the academy and accompany you if you need any assistance."

The last part while phrased as a request was directed as an order from beneath Yamamoto's heavy brows. Jūshirō glanced over to Shunsui in surprise, there was pride at the Soutaicho's words blooming in his chest, but also confusion at the request to guide Kuro-san about the academy. Shunsui shrugged but they both understood that the Soutaicho probably knew about the culprits behind the pink uniforms and this was their best chance at bail.

"We'd be happy to help a fellow student."

Jūshirō phrased diplomatically with a polite smile in Kuro-san's direction, the student in question nodded his thanks, the blank expression that seemed to saturate his features never changing. The Soutaicho nodded, something pleased and yet beneath that warning, to his expression as he dismissed the three of them from his office. Shunsui hopped up from his chair and with an energetic movement strode over to Kuro-san, careful to respect the man's boundaries he guided the student out the doorway chatter filling the air.

Jūshirō followed the two, feeling sorry for Kuro-san who had been sacked with Shunsui's boundless energy. Before Jūshirō exited he glanced over his shoulder, the Soutaicho was staring out the window his profile contrasted against the broad swath of blue skies, he turned and winked once at Jūshirō, all the confirmation he needed as to the Soutaicho's intentions as he turned away with the tips of his ears turning red and ran to catch up to the two students.

Shunsui led them out of the squat building and onto the school grounds, filled with large trees and verdant grass that in the high of summer tangled around one's ankles. Shunsui would likely show Kuro-san around the academy later but for now, his friend wanted to get to know the mystery that everyone would be talking about. Jūshirō would obviously take the opportunity to hopefully educate the new student about some aspects of the academy; he wasn't interested in the gossip at all. Kuro-san followed demurely behind Shunsui listening as he prattled on about which teachers were totally fair and the ones that were harsh.

"Did Yamamoto-san drop you right off at Hohō class?"

Jūshirō questioned, slipping a word in edgewise as Shunsui finally halted beneath a mammoth weeping willow, whose boughs hung low enough to tangle in his hair. Kuro-san's lips slipped upwards only a fraction to give the barest hint of a smile as he nodded and replied, "He wanted me to experience a class first."

Kuro-san's voice was low and hoarse as if he didn't use it often, but it was pleasant enough with a hint of an accent Jūshirō couldn't quite place. He nodded in commissary agreement recalling the Soutaicho's rather extreme methods as he settled on the grass.

A tickle appeared at the back of his throat and Jūshirō muffled a sigh as he coughed into the handkerchief his mother had sewed and embroidered when he was younger and still living with his clan. The coughs raked through his body with all the force of a storm, shuddering through his veins leaving aches and chills till Jūshirō could feel the blood coating his lips. Slowly, as the coughs diminished Jūshirō straightened tucking the handkerchief away before prying eyes could see it; there was no need to advertise.

Shunsui was staring at him with that expression again, the one that was guilt, sympathy, and pity mixed into a strange cocktail that stirred feelings of anger in Jūshirō's chest. He didn't want his friend to see him like this, weak, vulnerable, everything a Shinigami wasn't supposed to be. He had tried to hide it in their first year when their friendship had still been tentative, but that attempt had failed miserably. Kuro-san was also staring at Jūshirō in concern but there was something not quite understanding but at least empathetic to his gaze.

"I'm okay, don't worry."

Jūshirō reassured wondering if it was himself or the others he was reassuring. Shunsui nodded but his expression conveyed well-enough that he didn't believe Jūshirō's words even as he laughed and stated nonchalantly, "This happens all the time Kuro-san, Ju-chan has a bit of a medical condition."

"I hope it doesn't happen all the time, that much blood must be hard to wash out."

The words were delivered in a deadpan but there is a hint of a something teasing to the words and Jūshirō cannot help but grin at the joke. Shunsui stared between Kuro-san and Jūshirō for a moment, lost at the exchange before he laughed, the sound ringing through the public gardens. A small smile slipped across Ichigo's features at Shunsui's laughter, it was more tangible than the fraction they had seen before and it was utterly stunning for it. The smile changed Kuro-san's features, highlighted the classical beauty to his features, the deep brown of his eyes and made him seem younger. Jūshirō and Shunsui traded a look and suddenly they were in desperate agreement that they wanted to see Kuro-san smile more.

"Well, I suppose we should actually show you the academy before dinner time, in my opinion, the food is questionable but hey it's mostly free and there are some restaurants in Rungokai we can show you later."

Shunsui prattled as he rose to his feet, attaching his zanpaktou to his hip and brushing off clinging grass before he extended a hand to Kuro-san. The student considered it for a moment with a depth of gaze Jūshirō couldn't ascertain before he grasped the hand with a slight crinkle to his eyes and allowed Shunsui to pull him up. Jūshirō shouldered his way to his feet and ignored the nausea that swept like vertigo over him before it disappears.

"What not going to help the sickly? What a stunning Shinigami you will be Shunsui."

Jūshirō chided with a grin once his sense of balance returned. Shunsui pouted and whined his name as he knocked his shoulder against Jūshirō's, apology lingering faintly in his gaze. He grinned and locked arms with his friend before leading the new student towards the academy. He barely glimpses the nostalgic smile on Kuro-san's face and had to wonder before he was distracted by Shunsui's monologuing.

X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter and the characterization of everyone, Ichigo has time-travelled and is from a future that ended terribly but the events of the past won't be a major part of the fic. Also, Ichigo is far from creative and he literally chose the colour black for his last name, so props to the idiot. Reviews/comments are always appreciated, till next time!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, we are here with the next chapter. Thanks to everyone who left a review/comment on the last chapter, there were so many positive reviews so thank you all very much! I hope you all enjoy this chapter, read on!
> 
>  
> 
> Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo

X

Jūshirō shifted into a lower stance as he held off his opponent’s katana, he gritted his teeth and ignored the sweat beading across his forehead and cooling a line across his spine as he tightened his grip on the hilt of his katana and focused on his breathing. Stepping to the side, Jūshirō disrupted the balance of his opponent and swung his katana to the side only for it to catch on another katana. Hayato Himura grinned at Jūshirō with the bright exhilaration of spar, he was a giant among their classmates with the appearance of a thug, but he was gentle at heart and treated his girlfriend like gold.

He smiled back as he ducked underneath a blade that sliced through the air overhead, with a step to the side Jūshirō placed himself behind Himura-san. As Jūshirō moved he could hear the faint ringing of laughter in the back of his mind as he let his blade rest in front of his opponent’s neck.

“I yield.”

Himura-san gasped out with a touch of a self-deprecating grin, Jūshirō re-sheathed his zanpaktou in one fluid motion and tried to regain control of his breathing in slow even measures. Glancing around as Himura-san stretched out, Jūshirō observed his classmates, most of them were still engaged in their spars, the sound of steel against steel slicing through the concentration Jūshirō had pulled together. Others were stretched out on the side of the dojo, sipping at cups of water with their partner and watching everything with a keen eye; it was the advanced kendo class for a reason.

Their teacher, Amari-san, was stretched out at the front of the classroom regarding his students with a keen eye, he had a grizzled salt-and-pepper mop of hair on his head, a crippled leg from a battle, now centuries past, and the disposition of a grizzly bear on the best days. Regardless, he was one of the best teachers one could ask for in kendo. Every few days they had a different teacher to expose them to different styles of kendo, Jūshirō’s favourite was Miya-san, she often focused on the zanpaktou aspects of their training.

Letting his eyes sweep over the dojo Jūshirō searched for Shunsui who had been partnered with Kuro-san. They were settled in one corner of the dojo with a few students gathered to watch nearby. The spar was a blur of motion a flash of the white shihakusho and the silver of a katana.

“That Kuro-san is pretty talented huh?”

Himura-san commented as he slung a towel over the back of his neck staring at the gathering spectacle their spar was creating with a quirk of his lips. Jūshirō nodded and turned to bow to his opponent, with a measured smile Jūshirō said, “Thank you for the spar.”

With a hint of the exertion from the spar still remaining on his features, Himura-san repeated the motion and the phrasing before drifting to the side to sit with his girlfriend. Jūshirō swept a hand through his sweat-soaked hair and watched the spar for a moment.

Their zanpaktou clashed with a flare of sparks, Shunsui was fast and his technique relied on his opponent’s weaknesses, he was confident with his zanpaktou as he switched it fluidly from hand to hand to challenge his opponent. Kuro-san was ruthless, he pressed every advantage with a strength that didn’t look natural for his slight build, his movement held no flair and on occasion, he seemed to act on instinct twisting from one motion into the next in a barely noticed blink of the eye. He was holding back as well.

Jūshirō had sparred with more than one student who thought his ‘delicate constitution’ was a reason to hold back. It was easy to recognize that in Kuro-san, granted it wasn’t overly much and they were both still fighting with a determined effort but Jūshirō could see it, just as he always did. That was why he liked sparing with Himura-san, the man didn’t pretend to ignore Jūshirō’s illness, he acknowledged it and still gave each spar his all, and if Jūshirō needed a break he was happy to comply.

Breathing softly through his nose as he watched the two spar Jūshirō glided to the side of the dojo and settled into seiza. Slipping quietly into meditation Jūshirō felt the sounds of the dojo fade around him, the stillness of the air was replaced with a breeze that played with the tips of Jūshirō’s air and brushed across the bridge of his nose. He opened his eyes slowly, like the floods in the tropical months' water roared on all sides of him, pouring in onto itself, and yet surrounding him in a pool of still water was his reflection, multiplying in on itself endlessly. He could hear laughter, childish and bright, echoing, and with the rush of water that played upon itself.

It started to slip away, Jūshirō felt that if he could hold his concentration a minute longer, he would be able to see beyond the flood of water surrounding him, but it was useless it trickled away like water cupped in one’s palms. Exhaling in quiet dismay Jūshirō blinked open his eyes to the hazy yellow light of the dojo and the sound of steel chorusing like a choir.

Most of the spars were finished, a few dedicated students were still hacking away at one another unaware of the crowd that had gathered, within a reasonable distance, around Shunsui and Kuro-san. Jūshirō stared, noticing the two were beginning to draw to a close and wondered at the ugly feeling bubbling up in his chest, the one that felt like hot blood burning through his lungs and down his throat.

Maybe it was because when Shunsui and Jūshirō sparred there was always something holding Shunsui back? Was it because Jūshirō felt stifled by his illness as if that was all others saw? They would look at him in his academy uniform and say, “You’re attempting to be a Shinigami with your illness? That’s so courageous, brave, endearing, thoughtful...”

Was he jealous of Kuro-san? Who didn’t have to deal with the stigma, who could spar with Shunsui without people questioning whether he would blow over if the wind rustled to hard? Anger at Shunsui for jumping at the opportunity to spar with Kuro-san leaving Jūshirō to find another opponent? Though Amari-san had often insisted on separating the two of them. Jūshirō frowned and scrubbed a hand over his features before returning his attention to the fight ignoring the emotions that were unwarranted and unwanted. Shunsui only cared for Jūshirō and that was why he held back, and Kuro-san while quiet and still quite mysterious wasn’t the bad sort.

With a final twist of Kuro-san’s blade, Shunsui’s katana went sailing, sending the gathered students dispersing in a frenzy as the blade embedded itself in the floor. Shunsui laughed the sound rolling through Jūshirō, and Kuro-san smiled exhilarated and bright-eyed in a way that made Jūshirō stare for the way his features caught the sunlight. Kuro-san sheathed his zanpaktou in a fluid movement that sliced through the tense atmosphere that had settled over the dojo and the two bowed to one another.

The sound of clapping cut through the dojo and Jūshirō turned a surprised eye on the teacher, Amari-san was grinning, a wide blood-thirsty grin that was his default expression of pride. The other students quickly joined in and Jūshirō’s gaze drifted to Shunsui who wasn’t basking in the attention but staring at Jūshirō with a curved little half-smile that highlighted the dimple in his cheek. Jūshirō grinned back with a slight tilt of his head and watched as his friend dragged Kuro-san over to sit with Jūshirō.

“That was quite the spar.”

Jūshirō commented mildly as he handed them both a glass of water and a towel, Shunsui nodded with a grin that was all blinding puppy enthusiasm as he plopped beside Jūshirō with a puff of air, settling something inside his chest. Kuro-san nodded with a slight curve of his lips as he trailed thoughtful fingers over the hilt of his katana and sipped at the water.

“I’d like to be able to spar with you sometime as well Ukitake-san?”

Kuro-san stated with a questioning lilt staring at him with those deep eyes, Jūshirō blinked in surprise and wondered if the offer was extended out of some twisted form of pity. Seeing only blunt honesty on Kuro-san’s features Jūshirō inclined his head and replied, “I would be honoured. You can call me Jūshirō, Kuro-san, calling me Ukitake-san makes me think of my father.”

“Then I’m Ichigo.”

He replied with an incline of his head and a pleased smile. Shunsui glanced between the two of them with a broad grin and added, “Then you can call me Shunsui and I would pay to see that spar.”

Shunsui teased and Jūshirō turned to catch his friend staring at him with a dopey smile. Shaking his head with a mischievous grin Jūshirō admonished, “We are not setting up a gambling ring. You tried that in first-year, do you recall what happened?”

His friend blanched a look of terror passing briefly over his features as Shunsui recalled the Soutaicho’s punishment. Ichigo glanced between the two of them with a soft expression almost tender in familiarity as he asked, “And how did this gambling ring turn out.”

Jūshirō spared a warning glance at Shunsui, advising him against embellishing the story even as he nodded with a polite smile. The discomfort that had swallowed his chest was gone and he couldn’t help but want to bask in the presence of his friends.

“Well, it started out with the winter tournament…”

X

The grass was cool beneath his spine, beaded with the early dew of evening fall as Jūshirō stared through the boughs of the weeping willow above him, it felt as if the long dangling branches were reaching towards him, trying to embrace him. Jūshirō extended a hand and reached towards the boughs for a moment before he let his hand fall and rest on the cool grass. Shunsui chuckled the rich sound filling the evening air as his friend shoved himself up on his elbows and grabbed the bottle of sake resting between the two of them.

Shunsui had snuck the bottle in and appeared at his door with that grin that only meant trouble, that grin that made Jūshirō’s cheeks fill with warmth and his heart flutter. Shunsui passed the bottle over to Jūshirō with a grin, the light of the full moon catching on the rich brown of his eyes, the dimple in his left cheek, and the shape of his lips as he watched Jūshirō tip back the bottle.

It burned as it went down his throat, but it was the pleasant sort of burn, cool and sweet like ice as opposed to the fire that burned through his lungs and tasted like copper. Jūshirō grinned feeling the faint buzz as the half-empty bottle sloshed while it was passed to Shunsui, who was not the least inebriated due to his high tolerance and consumption of alcohol on a regular basis.

“I keep having this dream.”

Shunsui stated his voice a respectful whisper in the quiet lull of the evening. Jūshirō turned his head to face his friend and raised a brow as he commented, “Oh?”

“Mhm I’m walking and there are buildings all around me like in Seireitei, but the shadows from the buildings are pointing in the wrong direction. And, there’s a voice that sounds like a woman,” Shunsui waggled his brow in insinuation before he continued, “But it sounds like two women maybe, it’s all distorted and it echoes?”

“What is she saying?”

Jūshirō questioned as he considered his friend’s dream, there were many who still placed value on the meaning of such and others who believed it was their zanpaktou attempting to communicate with them. Shunsui shrugged and flopped on his back with a huff as he replied with a pout, “I don’t know, can’t make sense of it, sounds like another language completely.”

“Do you think it’s your zanpaktou spirit trying to speak to you?”

Jūshirō questioned as he turned his head to glance up at the stars peeking through the boughs above. Their zanpaktou spirit was supposed to be a reflection of them and it took many Shinigami years to even establish contact with their spirits. Yet, Jūshirō felt he was close as if standing on the edge of a cliff and if he only stepped forward it would be there.

“Maybe, Miya-san would probably tell me to try and meditate more, but I can’t concentrate long enough to establish contact, hell I’ve only been to my Inner World a few times.”

Shunsui commented with a hint of dejection lining his voice, Jūshirō could hear the soft whistle of wind through the grass as Shunsui shifted. Humming in thought for a moment Jūshirō suggested, “Maybe you should try a different type of meditation, sitting in seiza doesn’t work for everyone. Miya-san suggested trying moving meditation?”

He turned to stare at Shunsui as he spoke, his friend glanced up at the skies above with a faint sort of smile there. Shunsui wasn’t one to sit still for long periods of time, it was almost a necessity for him to move around. Sometimes he couldn’t keep his focus on the work assigned and other times Jūshirō couldn’t pull him away but that was part of who he was. Shunsui hmphed but looked considerate of the suggestion, before he rolled over to face Jūshirō and questioned, “What does your Inner World look like Ju?”

He paused to think of the question, it was deeply personal, but they had known each other for what felt like years, it felt like Jūshirō knew Shunsui sometimes better than his own self. That he could turn around and find Shunsui in his reflection and not find it strange. They knew almost everything about each other, their history, their family, their aspirations. If Jūshirō trusted one person with anything it was Shunsui.

“There’s water everywhere, pouring from the skies like flood waters or over a cliff, and still pools of water that ripple when I move. There’s a glass sort of quality as if peering through a fogged window, and I feel as if behind the water there is something else.”

Jūshirō finished watching the light catch on Shunsui’s eyes and deepen them so that it appeared as if the night sky had been captured there. His friend quirked a small smile, more honest than the flirtatious one he presented to the common populace.

“Sounds like a water type huh?”

Shunsui suggested with the hint of a laugh to his tone. Jūshirō shook his head, that didn’t feel right, he could almost hear faint laughter suggesting his thought was correct. Shunsui rolled his eyes and replied, “Ma maybe not then.”

A soft silence descended between the two of them, filled with the hum of the nightlife, and the whistle of wind through the boughs of the weeping willow above them. Jūshirō’s gaze drifted to Shunsui who was staring at him in kind, the moment between them felt tense and yet tender as if a weaving that could snap at a single thread or be bound together.

Warm fingers settled on Jūshirō’s cheek, tracing the curve of it and the warmth of life beneath it. The moment seemed to stretch on into the thick honey sweetness of long summer days and days thick in the storm of winter. Recalling to mind the many times they had run together moments away from being caught, the heat of the dojo as they sparred katana clashing against one another, the laughter as they walked through Rungokai in their spare time.

“Jūshirō.”

Shunsui stated his name breathlessly as if it was something to worship. He was staring at him with a tender expression and Jūshirō felt the moment catch in his lungs.

The sound of footsteps shattered the moment and broke the dream-like state Jūshirō’s mind had settled in. Glancing up, he caught sight of Ichigo, the student was walking slowly, as if each movement was painful and he didn’t look well.

“Ichigo-san.”

Jūshirō called out beckoning their friend closer as he shifted to rest on his elbows. Ichigo paused as if the voice was reaching him from very far away before he turned and caught sight of them. A small smile appeared as Ichigo began to make his way over, Jūshirō glanced over to Shunsui who was staring at the sky and shaking his head with something like resignation to his features.

Upon a closer look, Ichigo was worse than Jūshirō had first thought, there were deep bags under his eyes and his skin was pale as if had just seen a ghost. His smile was shaky as he plopped onto the ground in a boneless slump, Shunsui shifted to stare at their friend and with a forlorn glance at the bottle of sake passed it over to Ichigo. Their friend studied the bottle for a moment with a darkness to his eyes that in the evening light appeared as if a void, an obscured glass, before with a shake of his head Ichigo tipped back the bottle.

Ichigo sputtered and coughed as he set the bottle down, but the darkness to his features abated slightly at Shunsui’s rough laughter and the smile Jūshirō permitted to slip across his lips. Running a hand through his hair, Ichigo flopped onto his back on the grass opposite Jūshirō and questioned with a bit of tease to his voice, “And where did you acquire this sake not permitted for students on school grounds.”

“Oh around.”

Shunsui replied innocently adding a cheery whistle of innocence to complete the act, Jūshirō muffled an undignified giggle into the palm of his hand as he settled back on the grass and stared up at the night sky twinkling above them with its rich canvas of stars. He could hear Ichigo’s laugh, soft and barely audible but the kind that was contagious and made one smile when one heard it.

The three of them settled into a peaceful lull, Shunsui and Ichigo continued to pass the bottle back and forth slowly draining what little was left. Jūshirō dragged a hand through the grass, felt the air in his lungs and commented, “One more year and we’ll be out of the academy.”

“I don’t think I’m ready to consider it. What division, what position, the missions? All of it.”

Shunsui added running a hand over the faint stubble lining his jaw. Jūshirō nodded and glanced at Ichigo whose head was tilted up to face the skies above, his eyes were closed but they blinked open slowly.

“Who knows, a lot can change in a year.”

Ichigo said slowly his tone experienced as if he had seen the measure of such. Jūshirō hummed in agreement and watched the moonlight play off the sharp angles of Ichigo’s features and set the orange of his hair to burning coals.

“One day we might even make captaincy.”

“Imagine that,” Shunsui replied to the musing comment and continued, “How would you run your division?”

Ichigo shifted to stare at the two of them, there was something amused to the quirk of his lips, but it was overpowered by the fact that the smile didn’t reach his eyes and left the expression half-fulfilled.

“I think Shunsui’s division would be full of women. And Jūshirō’s division would be full of dedicated Shinigami.”

Ichigo commented dragging a thumb over the hilt of his zanpaktou, which was a black so dark it seemed to blend into the shadows of the night. Shunsui pouted at the unfair observation and whined Ichigo’s name in a long drawn out syllable. Jūshirō chuckled but was inherently pleased by Ichigo’s thoughts about a future division he might one day captain.

“It’s not that bad Shunsui, he could have suggested your division will be full of drunkards.”

“Jūshirō!”

Shunsui whined rolling over until he was on top of Jūshirō, who huffed at the heavy weight of his friend and pushed him off with a roll of his eyes ignoring Shunsui’s blubbering. Ichigo’s laughter filled the air again at Shunsui’s actions and they shared a glance happy to hear their friend laughing.

“What about you Ichigo?”

He questioned tilting his head to stare at their friend, Ichigo hummed in thought for a moment before he replied, “Whoever needs a place to be themselves.”

It was a very Ichigo answer, Jūshirō decided as he imagined his two friends sporting the Captain’s haori walking through the streets of Rungokai, greeting their subordinates. Jūshirō covered his mouth as a yawn interrupted his regularly scheduled breathing, he felt as if he could drift off in the pocket of space they had claimed as their own, the hum of insects in the background, the swaying of the weeping willow above them, the stars in a blanket of darkness, the warmth in his chest.

“Someone’s tired.”

Shunsui commented gaily with a grin and Ichigo replied with a roll of his eyes, “We all are. And we still have classes tomorrow.”

“Only if we choose to go.”

Shunsui added even as he slowly shifted his way to a seated position, Jūshirō sighed for a moment and closed his eyes before mirroring the motion. A hand appeared in front of his features and Jūshirō glanced up into Shunsui’s warm brown eyes, with a smile that slipped unbidden he grasped the hand and let Shunsui pull him to his feet. Ichigo appeared beside Shunsui, the bottle of sake in his arms, the shadows from before weren’t so harsh on his features. Together they turned and entered the dormitories leaving behind the night and all its works of art.

X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I’m totally not sorry for the tease, there must be a few clichés. Reviews/comments are always appreciated, till next time!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, we are with a new chapter. I hope everyone is enjoying the holidays, and that whatever you celebrate is amazing. This chapter explores more of everyone’s personality, so I hope you enjoy. There are notes at the bottom for anything referenced in the text that might not be familiar due to historical context. Read on and enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo

X

The air was thick with the scent of seafood, and the sweetness of dango roasting on open fires, the cacophony of voices as the citizens bargained and negotiated over the local wares, laughter as children ran through the streets, and above it all the sound of life. Jūshirō always loved the districts and open markets of Rungokai for their vibrancy, even amidst poverty one could find joy. Shunsui beside Jūshirō was also grinning, though his was more excitement at the prospect of alcohol or women, still, the pleasantness of the morning felt contagious.

Ichigo appeared inclined to disagree. He lingered behind the two of them with a frown touching his features as he dragged his feet. Occasionally his eyes would flicker around to observe their surroundings and his expression would flicker away from sullen to something far more fragile. Jūshirō couldn’t really blame Ichigo for being upset, it was the morning on a day where they all had no classes scheduled.

But then again, Ichigo could be sullen on the best of days. Their friend had something in his past that dragged him down into the deepest depths of brooding Jūshirō had seen and it was hard to pull him out of a funk once he had settled into it. Sometimes it was best to leave Ichigo alone on those days, he could get quite tetchy, other times they tried to coax him out of it. On one memorable occasion, Shunsui had dragged Ichigo to a party, the memory of it still made Jūshirō smile; it hadn’t ended well.

“Why are we here again?”

Ichigo questioned with a huff of air and a tone of long-suffering. Jūshirō grinned and smiled apologetically at his friend even as Shunsui turned to face Ichigo and continued walking backwards. With a grin, he suggested, “Can’t we just go out and enjoy the morning market? No? Well, what about shopping for new sheaths huh?”

“Then why am I here? I don’t need a new sheath and I’ve seen the market a thousand times.”

Ichigo responded in challenge as he placed his hands on his hips and leaned forward as if daring Shunsui to retaliate. Jūshirō with a grin interjected, “Ah but each day is different, and though you use wrappings for your sheath its good to have one for ceremonial occasions. Besides this district has many interesting stores. 

Shunsui nodded in agreement sagely wagging his finger at Ichigo who frowned and glanced off to the side, watching as a woman scolded her young children. Sharing a shake of his head with Shunsui, Jūshirō prompted his friend to try again with a short incline of his head.

“In truth, Jūshirō and I have a Noble gathering or something coming up. And our clan heads want us to attend. But it’s a beautiful day Ichigo! There’s so much to see and do so, stop whining Ichigo and enjoy the excursion, it’s better than sitting inside all day.”

Shunsui explained with a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes and furrowed his brows. They both didn’t like dealing with the pomp and circumstance of their clans, but they could at least pretend to enjoy the exercise of purchasing new formal wear. While at least Jūshirō would enjoy it, Shunsui hated shopping for clothes with a vicious passion that had blossomed in their first year at the academy.

Ichigo scowled at them, it was a fearsome scowl that resembled something one might see on a local yakuza or on the Soutaicho; it depended on the situation. Crossing his arms over his chest Ichigo bit out, “I hate you both.”

“Do you hear that Jūshirō? He hates us! Oh, my heart is broken, I’ll never love again, the world is coming to an end for me!”

Shunsui exclaimed loudly spinning around with crocodile tears pouring down his cheeks as he slung an arm over Jūshirō’s shoulder. He muffled his laughter into his sleeve as Ichigo stared at Shunsui in abject outrage and horror. Shaking his head Ichigo sighed and uncrossed his arms before grabbing Shunsui and yelling, “Please stop. Dammit, you’re so weird!”

“You love it anyway.”

Shunsui retorted which only twisted Ichigo’s expression further, Jūshirō could almost feel his desire to physically attack Shunsui. Deciding to defuse the situation before it could get out of hand and cause even more of a spectacle Jūshirō stepped between the two and reminded them, “Calm down, we’re in a public place if you two want to spar you can do so later. We still have shopping to do.”

Ichigo huffed but stepped away throwing a last warning glare at Shunsui who, in turn, threw a chastised glance at Jūshirō before turning around to resume walking with a whistle. Shaking his head at their antics Jūshirō drifted beside Ichigo who was grinning to himself before he noticed Jūshirō and inclined his head in greeting.

“That idiot over there mentioned a noble function. I didn’t know you guys were nobility?”

Ichigo questioned ignoring Shunsui’s muffled protest. Jūshirō nodded running a hand over the hilt of his katana he decided briefly on what to tell Ichigo, some citizens, especially from the poorer districts, didn’t like the nobility. Not that Jūshirō could disagree when he saw the stark contrast in living conditions. 

“Yes, though both of us will likely never be the head of our respective clans. Moreover, both of our clans are more akin to cadet branches of the larger clans. My father is sixteenth in line for clan head. The Kyroraku clan is a bit higher than the Ukitake clan, but Shunsui has five siblings, so the chance of him being clan head is also nominally low. However, even regarding that, we are still forced to attend most functions and we have to be conscious of how we reflect the clan.”

Jūshirō finished feeling almost out of breath from the impromptu lecture on their differing family trees. Shunsui glanced back at Jūshirō and winked with a grin to his lips before his gaze strayed to Ichigo who was staring at both of them with a pensive cast to his features. 

He was tempted to ask Ichigo about his own family, of which they knew nothing, but something inside Jūshirō that had become familiar with Ichigo over the past few months acknowledged that if Ichigo didn’t speak of them, even in passing then something must have happened. It was important to respect Ichigo’s privacy even if the curiosity nearly drove him insane. 

Jūshirō traded a raised brow with Shunsui who nodded in understanding his eyes dark in the pale light of the morning before Jūshirō interrupted and added, “We’re almost at the first shop we need to visit. It’s the one up ahead with the blue sign.”

Shunsui turned to Ichigo and with wide eyes and grasping, hands asked, “Please don’t make me go in there! It’s torture you don’t understand, he’ll make me try on fifteen different things and only buy one!”

Ichigo blanched at Shunsui’s words and Jūshirō tossed a polite smile over his shoulder and watched as the two shuddered. He had always shown an interest in the ornate clothing the nobility wore, and his mother had only harnessed that. Of course, she had thought he was a she and might grow up to sew but that was another story. 

“I suppose we should find something for you to wear as well Ichigo. You’ll probably be invited to something ceremonial with your prodigious displays at the academy.”

Jūshirō mused out loud watching with a grin that wanted to split his features as Ichigo swallowed nervously and glanced around anxiously for an escape route. But alas there was nothing as they arrived at the store. It appeared simple on the exterior with a pale almost ivory wood and the faded blue sign hanging above the doorway with shuttered windows, the inside was also simple with accents of silver and grey. 

Shunsui and Ichigo entered the shop as if they were walking to their execution. The woman manning the front was elderly but with kind features and an energy that knocked all notion of age away. She bounced out of her seat and over to Jūshirō where she grasped his cheeks and exclaimed, “Ukitake-san it has been a while, welcome! What are you looking for today?”

Jūshirō laughed and replied, “It’s good to see you as well Honda-san. There’s the annual Spring Equinox gathering. Shunsui and I need clothing, and our friend Ichigo needs something formal to wear.”

She nodded and turned away diving into the rows of long draping kimonos and flowery haori, the bolts of fabric that lined the walls and piled out of bins and the variety of sewing tools scattered about the room. Jūshirō turned to Shunsui and Ichigo who lingered awkwardly in the doorway, sharing grim looks with each other. Shaking his head, he pointed at the two seats pushed up against one of the walls and said, “This shouldn’t take too long, Honda-san is excellent. After this Shunsui wants to go to the local instrument store, and after that, we need to look at sheaths but that’s it.”

“Has Jūshirō always been this utterly frightening?”

Ichigo questioned aside to Shunsui who nodded solemnly and responded, “Yes, but the demon only makes a rare appearance when it comes to clothing.”

“Ah.”

Ichigo said in agreement, Jūshirō decided the best response was to smile pleasantly at the two. That was when Honda-san reappeared, in her arms were eight bolts of fabric and around her shoulder was another weave of fabric. 

“Who’s first?”

She questioned in an excited tone, her eyes tracing over the three of them as she added under her breath, “It’s not often I get to measure such handsome young men.”

Jūshirō grinned and tipped his head to hide it before he pointed at Ichigo who squawked in outrage with wide eyes and an exclamation of, “Why me?”

“Because you’ll take the least time. There’s only so many colours that go with orange Ichigo.”

Jūshirō advised even as Ichigo sullenly rose to his feet and muttered, “That’s not something I can control.”

Ah, so it was natural. Jūshirō had wisely refrained from asking when Ichigo had levelled a fierce glare at anyone who stared at his hair for too long. Honda-san smiled kindly at Ichigo as she guided him in front of the polished silver that served as a mirror and brought out her measuring tape, Jūshirō drifted close to watch.

As Honda-san moved, Ichigo turned to face Jūshirō and commented, “My sister used to make me do this. She loved to sew… and cook. Her cooking was to die for.”

Jūshirō made careful note of the tenses Ichigo spoke in and delicately asked, “Oh? What was her name?”

“Yuzu. My other sister was Karin.”

Ichigo responded turning to face the mirror and stare at his appearance, Jūshirō didn’t acknowledge the redness of Ichigo’s eyes or the way his voice cracked on their names instead he responded, “They sound lovely.”

He nodded once the movement sharp and tense as the moment lingering in the shop, then Honda-san cheerfully chirped, “Move over a bit dear, lift your arm, there we go. What colour do you think Ukitake-chan?”

Jūshirō shook away the thoughts plaguing his mind and muffled a smile at the disgruntled expression Ichigo was sporting as he was forced to move like a doll. Studying Ichigo in earnest, from the bright flame of his hair, his pale skin that could tan golden in the summer months if they could drag Ichigo outside, and the soft warmth of his eyes and decided.

“Probably a deep blue Honda-san.”

“I was thinking the same thing!” she replied with a clap of her hands as she pulled out a roll of fabric that was almost cobalt but felt layered as if one could see purples and reds beneath the blue. Ichigo stared at the fabric with wide eyes something reverent stealing across his face as he ran his fingers over the fabric dappled with silver and murmured, “It’s like the sky.”

Shunsui sidled beside Jūshirō to peer at the fabric and released an appreciative whistle at the fabric, Ichigo threw Jūshirō a lost expression and said, “I won’t be able to pay-“

“Nonsense this is a gift.”

Jūshirō interrupted with a pleasant smile that asked Ichigo to try an argue. The man in question opened his mouth for a moment before he wisely closed it and instead said, “Thank you.”

He nodded and turned to Honda-san who was grinning and holding her hands in front of her face, the bob of her hair like a halo as her eyes sparkled. Jūshirō tilted his head and said, “What do you think Honda-san? A kimono, and then a haori in grey, obi in white?”

“Hmm, I think the obi should be a deep red.”

She replied and Jūshirō considered it before conceding with a nod to Honda-san’s greater artistic talent. She reached over and tapped Ichigo’s cheek lightly with the palm of her hand and said, “All done dearie. Who’s next?”

Shunsui flashed Jūshirō a pout all wide eyes and wavering lips, Jūshirō shook his head and stepped forward allowing Ichigo to sit down with an exhausted huff. Honda-san brought out the measuring tape and Jūshirō stretched his arms out and listened to Shunsui and Ichigo’s conversation. 

“You play an instrument? Jūshirō mentioned a music store nearby?”

Ichigo questioned after a moment tilting his head to regard Shunsui with a half smile. Shunsui stared for a moment before he shook his head and replied, “Ah yeah the shamisen*. My older brother plays the koto* it’s a bit of a tradition in my family.”

A smile slipped across Ichigo’s features and he nodded with a shrug and a grin and said, “I didn’t know.”

“Mhmm Jūshirō can’t play an instrument to save his life, I think the only one he can semi-manage is the reed flute.”

Shunsui added with a vicious grin, Jūshirō frowned and glared at his friend over his shoulder as Honda-san directed him to lift his arms above his head. Smiling pleasantly Jūshirō added, “At least I actually appreciate art, you scoundrel.”

“Hey, erotica counts as art!”

Shunsui retorted earning a chuckle from Honda-san and an interesting shade of red that blossomed across Ichigo’s cheeks. Jūshirō grinned and shook his head at Shunsui’s words letting the argument dissolve, for the moment. 

“Oh, that reminds me, Jūshirō we should pick up a tile board for Go*. Ichigo’s never played it.”

Shunsui said casually changing the topic with an easy grin. Jūshirō quirked a brow and gazed at Ichigo who was resolutely studying his hands as he questioned, “Really? Its alright Ichigo I’m horrible at it. Shunsui once played against the Soutaicho, though he lost.”

Ichigo glanced at Shunsui with wide eyes and blinked before flashing a small smile at Jūshirō. Honda-san tapped Jūshirō’s shoulder and he stepped away from the mirror and turned to look at the bolts of fabric laid out.

“I think the forest green would be nice, maybe with a pale silver obi?”

Jūshirō suggested to Honda-san who nodded studying the fabric and then switching her gaze to Jūshirō she said, “Yes, you need to wear more colour! Your hair is pale enough as it is.”

He laughed to hide the minor discomfort the comment brought and nodded in agreement before turning to Shunsui who had begun to edge towards the door the moment Jūshirō had stepped away from the polished silver. 

“Your turn Shunsui.”

“But Jūshirō!”

Shunsui whined staring at him with pleading eyes, he looked a moment away from dropping to his knees. Jūshirō smiled pleasantly and pointed towards the mirror where Honda-san stood with an anticipatory gaze reminiscent of a predator. Shunsui trudged slowly forward as if to step into his own grave. 

“You know, if shopping is always this exciting, I wouldn’t mind coming more often.”

Ichigo stated with a grin as he watched Shunsui slunk forward. Jūshirō winked at Ichigo as he settled in the chair beside him and responded, “Just wait till we get to the sheath shop, Shunsui is very particular about his katana. But clothing? Never.”

X

The forest shot up about them in shades of verdant green, so dark in some areas that the shadows seemed bright in comparison. It was still and quiet except for the sound of their feet moving over the foliage on the ground. Jūshirō glanced at Shunsui who was talking with one of the Shinigami, she was from the Fifth division, like the rest of the squadron, and was quite beautiful. Jūshirō ignored the feeling that burrowed its way into the pit of his stomach and instead focused on the intense discomfort the forest filled him with. It was almost too quiet. 

It was a routine scouting mission, one meant to suss out the size and grouping of Hollows in the district based on citizen reports. The chance of encountering Hollows was usually low but on occasion, they did appear. It was one of the safer missions hence the presence of academy students who showed talent with a zanpaktou. It was an excellent experience and often the different divisions would send invitations to prominent students to hopefully secure them for their division. 

Jūshirō wasn’t even sure why they had accepted the invitation. Maybe it had been Shunsui’s puppy eyes begging for the chance to actually be out in the field, or Ichigo’s nonchalance about the whole thing. Regardless, the forest seemed to loom around them and he could feel something tying the air into knots that the other Shinigami remained unaware of. 

Ichigo at least seemed to share his discomfort, his brows were furrowed, and his hand rested on the pommel of his katana as he surveyed their surroundings. Shaking his head in an attempt to dispel the unsettling feeling Jūshirō cast his reaitsu out in a thin wide net in an attempt to find any Hollows lingering in the area. There was nothing. Or at least whatever was out there slid from beneath Jūshirō’s notice. 

Slowing his pace slightly so as to fall in line with Ichigo, Jūshirō tilted his head and quietly asked, “Have you sensed anything?”

A Shinigami glanced at the two of them with a frown that twisted his features into something brutish, likely unhappy that they were forced to patrol with academy students. Ichigo glared at the Shinigami and shook his head before silently responded, “There’s something, but I can’t tell if it’s Hollow or just another soul. You know I’m horrible at reaitsu sensing though.”

Jūshirō wasn’t surprised by his friend’s rather lacklustre ability at reaitsu sensing. It had taken a while to notice, for both Shunsui and Jūshirō, that their friend had a frankly monstrous reaitsu presence, he was just very good at hiding it; and very bad at kido. 

“So is the rest of the Fifth division.”

Jūshirō responded with an incline of his head and a bland smile. The same Shinigami from before glanced at the two of them in suspicion when a sharp burst of laughter broke Ichigo’s composure only to be quickly subdued. It was true, the Fifth division was not known for its kido technique, just as the Eleventh was not known for its technique in anything but brutality. 

An arm slung around Jūshirō’s shoulder and he startled slightly before glancing up into the grinning face of his friend who questioned, “Now what are you two talking about without me?”

Jūshirō rolled his eyes and shared a bemused expression with Ichigo before he responded, “We were obviously talking about how you’re losing your touch.”

Shunsui pouted at him, and tugged on a lock of his hair till Jūshirō sighed and corrected, “Do you sense anything?”

A furrow appeared between Shunsui’s brows and his lips thinned into a line his expression serious as he spread his reaitsu out in a wide radiance. His eyes slid half-closed as he concentrated on the surrounding area before he suddenly straightened and rested his hand on the hilt of his katana.

“There’s something out there. But I can’t identify what, but I think it’s coming closer.”

Shunsui stated in a low volume his eyes flickering around their surroundings as he lost his comfortable gait and straightened so that each step reverberated through the earth. Jūshirō mirrored the motion letting his hand drift to the hilt of his katana as he shared a wary gaze with Ichigo.

“Shouldn’t we mention it to the Shinigami?”

Jūshirō suggested glancing at the Fifth division members who were talking with each other unaware of the inclosing presence. Ichigo’s lips pressed into a thin line and he looked as if he wanted to protest before he shared a look with Shunsui and nodded reluctantly. 

“I recognize his type, but I’ll try.”

Ichigo moved forward to speak to the Fourth seat who was walking in the middle of the company and stated quite loudly, “Excuse me, sir? I believe there is something, possibly a Hollow coming towards the group.”

The Fourth seat turned to face Ichigo, he surveyed him, tilting his head up and down with a raised brow. The expression was intimately familiar to both Shunsui and Jūshirō, it was that of looking down upon someone, more than common enough in the nobility. Jūshirō winced and tightened his grip on the hilt of zanpaktou as he shared a nervous expression with Shunsui. 

“Who are you? An academy student. Why would you be able to sense something that trained Shinigami haven’t.”

His voice was high, almost nasally and it suited his almost rat-like appearance. Ichigo stared at the man his eyes were narrowed and his lips were curled ever so slightly into a frown as he clenched one hand into a fist at his side; Jūshirō wondered if he was holding back from punching the Fourth seat.

“As the Fourth seat, you should be able to sense it. Why don’t you try?”

Ichigo challenged staring into the man’s eyes with a coolness to his features like ice. The Fourth-seat shrunk back ever so slightly but nodded and closed his eyes, his reaitsu was almost tangible like a wave as it swept through the area flushing absolutely everything out with little tact. 

The Fourth-seat opened his eyes with a triumphant expression only to pause in shocked terror as a roar ripped through the air sending shivers down Jūshirō’s spine. Sharing a glance with Shunsui who was in agreement they drew their zanpaktou as one, the hiss of iron against sheath utterly shattering the previous quiet. Ichigo stared at the Fourth seat for a moment, his expression blank, before Ichigo turned and walked towards them. 

The roar grew louder and was echoed by a shriek as the Hollows drew closer to their location. Jūshirō resisted the urge to hold his breath as his fingers tightened around the hilt of his zanpaktou and he glanced over at his friends who held equally grim expressions. The moment seemed to stretch on and on anticipation drawing it out into thick honey. 

The first Hollow broke through the tree line by sending the trees flying, crashing into the distance with a muted thud. It was ginormous with arms as thick as the trees surrounding it, pale white skin contrasted harshly against the verdant surroundings, and yellow eyes stared hatefully at the stunned Shinigami. 

With a roar, the Hollow stepped forward forcing the Shinigami into action as they split into the air and attempted to reach the Hollow’s mask. It was useless as the Hollow swung its large arm and knocked three of them out of the air and into the ground where they lay still; unconscious or dead. 

The Fourth seat glanced at the three academy students, bright fear in his eyes as he yelled, “Stay there don’t get involved! This is beyond your skill level.”

Ichigo made a disgusted sound at the command but remained in the triangle they had formed katana catching the failing light. The Hollow advanced and one of the Shinigami cast Shakkahō the bright red kido sputtering weakly against the Hollow’s chest gathering its attention as others used the distraction to sneak up behind it. 

Jūshirō turned slowly as a shriek sounded behind them, pulling his attention from the battle as the three students turned to face another Hollow. This one was smaller, with long limbs that were bent almost unnaturally, bright crimson seemed to trail down from its shoulders over sharp claws. Jūshirō glanced to Shunsui who tilted his head to the left, Jūshirō took the right and Ichigo nodded forward in agreement to the unspoken plan. 

The Hollow stepped forward and they moved, Jūshirō darted to the right in a slide of shunpo appearing with his katana held out as it sliced through the arm at the elbow joint of the Hollow before he sprung back as the Hollow lashed out with its foot. Shunsui appeared beside Jūshirō a tear in his uniform but no sign of blood easing a previously unknown tension in his chest. With a nod they split up once more, Ichigo hadn’t hit the Hollows mask and they needed to distract it. 

Jūshirō darted in once more his katana catching against the Hollow’s claws with a shriek crimson dripping over his blade. He could hear faint laughter in his mind as he jumped back and moved forward slicing through three of the claws on its foot. 

He made to move back only to drop as a sudden weakness flushed itself through his system. Claws passed harmlessly overhead, but Jūshirō was unaware as his non-existent lungs heaved in protest forcing their way out of his mouth. The coughs drowned out the world around him, blazing agony through his veins Jūshirō tightened his grasp on his zanpaktou as he attempted to breathe.

Vaguely in the distance, Jūshirō could hear Shunsui and Ichigo calling his name but it was inaudible among the blood pounding through his head and painting his lips as rough coughs wracked his body. Darkness began to creep into the edges of his vision and he could hear someone calling out to him before the darkness claimed him. And Jūshirō welcomed it. 

X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry for the cliff-hanger! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, it was pretty fun to write and don’t worry Jūshirō won’t die. That’s all I’m saying. Also, for anyone who is noticing Ichigo’s personality, in the earlier chapters he’s guarded and trying not to become friends with Jūshirō and Shunsui, but now he is more comfortable with them and they help distract from his grief. Some notes…
> 
> Shamisen: An instrument sort of like a guitar
> 
> Koto: Kind of like a keyboard, but with strings, so more like a lyre/harp
> 
> Go: Is an abstract strategy board game for two players, in which the aim is to surround more territory than the opponent. The game was invented in China more than 2,500 years ago and is believed to be the oldest board game continuously played to the present day.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, reviews/comments are always appreciated, till next time!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, we are back, and I am still not sorry about the cliff-hanger. But don’t worry everything is resolved within the scene below. Thank you all for the super lovely reviews on the last chapter, I hope you all enjoy this one. Read on!
> 
> Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo

X

Consciousness returned to Jūshirō slowly, in sporadic bursts of waking moments interspersed with snatches of blurry conversation before the warmth of unconsciousness would pull him undertow once more. Until Jūshirō was awake, or as conscious as he could remember feeling in what time he had been asleep. There was panic and worry filtering in ever so slightly but the emotions, like his sense of consciousness, were far reaching and something he was only vaguely aware of feeling.

Instead, Jūshirō turned his attention to his body. He was sore in a manner that felt as if from head to toe, and it was as if an invisible weight rested on his chest, strangling his breath and pressing on his ribs. His throat felt dry and scratchy like a night after too much drinking with Shunsui often brought, and everything felt sluggish and slow as if his body was disconnected from his mind.

Slowly, Jūshirō turned his attention to his surroundings, he had a vague recollection of what had happened, but it was only that. He was somewhere quiet, that atmosphere of serenity and peace that was almost tangible seemed to hover around the room, the air was fragrant with the smell of herbs and spices, the familiar grounding scents like sage and lavender. Underneath was the faint smell of alcohol. Jūshirō stretched his reaitsu out slowly, in thin tendrils to search the room but couldn’t focus, each attempt left his head pounding.

Blinking his eyes open slowly Jūshirō absorbed the soft rays of golden light that spilt across his face and left his skin tingling with warmth. Everything was blurry, indistinct shapes that were soft around the edges like a river in the early morning fog. Slowly the world around him solidified, it was the medical bay, not the one at the school, which was small, and had the unruly habit of smelling far too potently of alcohol. This was the Fourth division, which had long been a division prioritized in healing, but had only recently advanced their technique and changed the way the rest of the Gotei 13 saw them; some days he debated joining the division after graduation if only to be closer to treatment for his illness.

Warm wood panelling and an open window with gauzy blinds that were almost translucent graced the wall opposite his bed with a door to the left that hung ever so slightly ajar. Jūshirō glanced to his left, his zanpaktou was leaned up against the wall and in a chair that looked stiff and uncomfortable, Ichigo was asleep his head resting on his palm. There was a bandage wrapped around his arm and in his sleep Ichigo’s features become soft, he looked younger almost vulnerable. Jūshirō couldn’t help but stare at his friend for a long moment, memorize the slant of his nose, the soft curve of his lips, it felt as if he could stare at Ichigo’s face for a month to notice all the tiny details, the faint scar on his chin, the way his eyelashes rested against his cheek.

Shunsui was on the right he was slumped over Jūshirō’s legs his hair unbound and spilling in messy curls about his face as he mumbled something incoherent. Jūshirō squashed the urge to reach out and move the strands away from his face, instead he watched his friend in the silence of the room, the slow breaths that parted his lips, the curve of his brows, the line of his jar, the small birthmark near his ear.

The door slid open with a near silent click accompanied by a whisper of footsteps. A Shinigami entered the room, she was small and mousey but had a kindness to her features that was inherently pretty. She blinked in surprise when she saw Jūshirō awake and he waved to her with a pleasant smile before gesturing for quiet with a pointed brow at his two friends. The Shinigami muffled a giggle into the palm of her hand and nodded before she turned and left the room; probably to return with a healer.

Ichigo shifted in his seat, his head fell away from his hand and with a slight jerk, he awoke. His eyes surveyed the room with brief efficiency, sharp as the blade at his feet and almost predatory before the line of his body untensed and Ichigo trembled out a sigh. Then those big brown eyes landed on Jūshirō and widened in surprise. Relief slipped across Ichigo’s features like the dawn washing over the land in stark contrast to a grief ages old.

“God we were so worried Jūshirō.”

Ichigo whispered hesitantly scrubbing a hand over his features highlighting the deep bags there. Jūshirō opened his mouth unsure how to respond, to apologize perhaps, when the door slid open once more, this time much louder. Shunsui jerked awake as the healer entered, he was a tall thin man with hair that swept upwards in a manner that viciously defied gravity as he loomed about the room.

He grinned at Jūshirō and in a voice like polished stone announced, “So you’re awake.”

The healer glided forward the soft green of healing kido leapt about his hands like flashes of lightning as they hovered over Jūshirō’s chest. The healer frowned for a moment, lips curled, and a brow furrowed before he declared, “Looks like you’ll be alright, you know except for the permanent illness thing you got going on. But bedrest for the next week you hear me?”

He lectured with a wagging finger and a scowl, Jūshirō nodded and remembered his father’s whispered advice about never angering one’s healer; they knew your body far better than you did. The healer nodded crossing his arms over his chest he turned his attention on Shunsui and Ichigo, who was staring at the healer with wide eyes, and briefly lectured, “And you two, go get some sleep for hell’s sake you’re of no use to your friend half-alive.”

With a shake of his head, the healer walked out of the room with a swagger to his step shutting the door with a loud clack. He hadn’t even introduced himself. Silence filled the room for a brief moment before Shunsui commented, “I don’t like him.”

Jūshirō couldn’t help the near-delirious laughter that slipped from his lips at the comment, his laughter petered out as the burn of his lungs halted the movement. Ichigo was also laughing, it was near hysterical and Shunsui was grinning, proud of reducing his friends to tears. The laughter died down slowly and was filled with a hesitant sort of silence as Jūshirō glanced between his two friends in the suddenly still room.

“I’m sorry.”

He said quietly the words heavy on his tongue. Shunsui frowned and Ichigo quirked a brow as the two shared a glance before Shunsui spoke up, “Why are you apologizing Ju?”

“My illness put you and the mission at risk.”

Jūshirō said with a frown allowing his hair to slide forward and mask his expression. Ichigo drew in a sharp breath and Shunsui grabbed one of Jūshirō’s hands, when he glanced up it was to stare into Ichigo’s eyes as he said, “None of that is your fault, your illness isn’t something you can control.”

“Besides, it’s the Fourth seat who ignored our warning and focused his efforts on one Hollow. He’s in pretty deep shit from the Fifth Division Captain.”

Shunsui added with a grin, stroking a finger over Jūshirō’s hand as he jostled his leg. Jūshirō glanced between the two of them his eyes were burning, and he sucked in a harsh breath. The panic from before and the relief of being alive in Shunsui and Ichigo’s presence hit him with the force of a tsunami and the tears rolled down his cheeks. Shunsui’s eyes widened in alarm and he leaned forward to wrap his arms around Jūshirō. Ichigo grasped Jūshirō’s other hand as Shunsui whispered into the crook of his neck.

“God, I thought I was going to lose you Jūshirō. I don’t know what I would have done.”

Jūshirō’s hand drifted upwards to grasp at the loose strands of Shunsui’s hair as his body trembled cold and emotionally overwhelmed all at once. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed, the scent of sakura and sake filling his senses as the warmth of Shunsui’s arms wrapped around him and Ichigo’s hand in his, seeped into his skin.

Shunsui pulled away after a moment his gaze soft and sappy. Jūshirō could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks as he smiled at Shunsui before directing his smile to Ichigo who gently squeezed his hand before letting go.

“At least you now get extensions on all our assignments.”

Shunsui stated with a grin as if that wasn’t a regular occurrence when Jūshirō had an attack. Shaking his head Jūshirō swatted his friend on the arm even as he contemplated all the missed classes with a small frown; it was more the thought of homework that terrified him.

“Don’t worry Jūshirō, I have most of the notes. And they’re actually legible.”

Ichigo said directing a glare at Shunsui whose notes were often a terrifying mix of shorthand and chicken scratch; they were always near impossible to read. Jūshirō grinned at Ichigo and nodded his head in thanks earning a smile as Ichigo ducked his head away for a moment his cheeks blossoming brightly with crimson.

Jūshirō muffled a yawn feeling exhaustion pulling at his eyelids in a sudden return of his earlier state of unconsciousness. Ichigo and Shunsui traded a glance over his head, Shunsui moved closer and ran a hand through Jūshirō’s hair, Ichigo grasped his hand.

“Get some sleep Jūshirō we’ll be here when you wake.”

Ichigo’s voice filtered in from a great distance as Jūshirō’s eyes slid closed and he welcomed the sweet embrace of darkness once more.

X

The air sweltered in an early bout of spring heat sizzling the air in one’s lungs and beading across the skin, the only relief was the occasional breeze which brought with it the somewhat pleasant smell of spring. Jūshirō glanced up at Himura-san who was leading the way, his arm was wrapped around Megumi, his girlfriend, the two were talking to each other in that way couples often do, off in their own world.

Shunsui was swinging a basket packed full of food in his arms as he walked beside Jūshirō humming a tune that he was certain was a bawdy ballad Shunsui had learned in the local tavern. Ichigo was behind the two of them, his face tilted up towards the sun, basking in the warmth, the winter had been cold this year, and the sun had hidden away for a long time.

“How much longer till we’re there Himura-san?”

Shunsui called cupping his hands so that his voice bounced off the tall grass and woods boarding the small path, one of the students behind them shook their head with a laugh; this was the third time the question had been asked. Himura-san turned to face them all with a wide grin that made his features turn from something rough to an almost puppy-like look as he called back with widespread arms, “You’ll see soon enough!”

Jūshirō shared a grin with Ichigo at Shunsui’s whine of despair as their friend bemoaned how long he had been walking. Jūshirō shook his head with a raised brow and said, “You’re the one who convinced Himura-san to show us this place, Shu!”

“Still.”

Shunsui whined drawing out the word as he held up the basket for Jūshirō to take with a pleading expression. Jūshirō flashed him an unimpressed expression holding up the book he had brought along and turned to Ichigo who was grinning to himself with a slight duck of his head.

The woods abruptly ended a few minutes later, and before them was a glimmering expanse of blue, shimmering with peaks of white and reflecting the endless skies above them. Jūshirō resisted the urge to stop and stare at the lake as Ichigo stepped up beside him and grinned bashfully at Jūshirō as he said, “It’s beautiful huh?”

Jūshirō nodded and grasped Ichigo’s hand pulling him forward and flashing a wink at Shunsui who was left to scramble to catch up to them. Ichigo’s laughter filled the air, the sound reverberating through his head and coiling a smile on his own features as they landed near the water’s edge.

Himura-san was standing at the edge staring at them all with the expression of their instructors, his arms crossed over his chest he ordered, “Alright everyone, I know we all came here to have a good time,” some of the students cheered and Himura grinned before continuing, “But know your own limits, if you can’t swim don’t go too deep into the lake. Also, be respectful or I’ll kick the shit out of you.”

And there was the thug part Jūshirō thought in amusement as some of the other students blinked at the sudden change in persona. Finished with his impromptu speech Himura-san clapped his hands together and gestured for everyone to disperse. The students spread out over the water’s edge and Himura turned to his girlfriend and the two walked off to find a place under the shade to sit together. The air still clung to Jūshirō, but he also happily searched for shade as Shunsui set the basket down and stripped off the top part of his uniform; Jūshirō was resolutely not looking.

“Aren’t you both coming in?”

Shunsui questioned staring at the two of them with a pitiful look, Ichigo was staring at the water as if it might consume him. Jūshirō hesitated, he didn’t want Shunsui to see, it was one thing to tell your friend another to see it, and body dysphoria was a bitch.

Their friend glanced between the two of them with a lost expression before realisation appeared as his gaze flickered between the two of them again. Shunsui glanced around the lake for a long moment before he stepped closer to the both of them and said, “No one here is going to stare or make fun of you, I won’t let them and Himura-san sure as hell won’t let them. And I don’t care what you guys look like under your clothing, I mean if you’re both hot that’s a bonus, but I don’t care okay. So, come on and enjoy yourselves, it’s hot as all fuck and the water is a great way to cool down. I mean if you don’t want to come in because you have hydrophobia or something else then I totally understand.”

Shunsui finished with a huff of nervous laughter, his eyes flickering between the two of them. Jūshirō glanced to Ichigo who smiled with a squint of his eyes and a furrow of his brows. If Ichigo could do it, so could Jūshirō. Shunsui grinned at their acceptance tapping his fingers against his thigh before he turned away and continued to get undressed.

Jūshirō stared at the long line of Shunsui’s spine, his skin golden in the sunlight before Jūshirō realised what he was doing and felt the blood rushing to his cheeks as he turned away and began to strip off his own clothing. He felt self-conscious near instantly, the scars seemed too bright and every part of his body felt foreign. But the warmth on his skin accompanied by the breeze was a pleasant sensation as Jūshirō slowly turned around ignoring it.

Shunsui was already by the water dipping his toes in and watching as some of the other students chased each other in another part of the lake. Taking a deep breath Jūshirō exhaled slowly and walked forward to join Shunsui. He glanced up when he heard Jūshirō’s approach and stared, his eyes were wide his mouth open. Jūshirō tilted his head down staring at his own body, the scars on his chest. He had wanted to bind, it was safer with the risk of infection, but putting pressure on his lungs could have made his illness worse. So now there were scars on his chest.

“Wow, you look… wow, Jūshirō.”

Shunsui whispered in a reverent tone and Jūshirō glanced up in shock at the words, at the appreciation in Shunsui’s voice and let his own eyes trace his friend’s physique regardless of the blush staining his cheeks. Shunsui was all toned muscle and thick hair that traced a path down his sternum and beneath the shorts he wore. Jūshirō thought it wasn’t possible to blush any harder, but he had certainly been proven wrong as he smiled weakly at Shunsui, whose hair in the sunlight seemed to glow.

Steps sounded behind them and they turned to stare at Ichigo who was purposefully staring at the water and not at both of them. Ichigo was scarred, heavily, white lines that were from bladed weapons traced his abdomen and arms and legs crisscrossed upon one another, there were others that were like pockmarks of silver all glinting in the sunlight. Beneath that Ichigo was toned but thin, all skin stretched over muscle and bone, like a statue.

Ichigo’s gaze slowly swept towards the two of them, his gaze raked over Shunsui with something like a fire that made Jūshirō’s toes curl in the sand before it swung to Jūshirō. His eyes swept over his chest and paused at the scars before he added softly, “My sister was, well she wasn’t always my sister some days she was my brother.”

The information was offered with a small smile as fragile as glass even as Ichigo stared at Jūshirō as if he was the world. Jūshirō grinned and said, “Like I’ve said your siblings sound lovely Ichigo.”

The words relaxed the tense line of Ichigo’s shoulder as he nodded and stepped closer to them. Shunsui surveyed Ichigo, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips before he raised a brow, planted his hands on his hips and said, “You are both far too thin. From now on I’m stuffing the both of you!”

Jūshirō pouted, he was not too thin, Ichigo just drooped a frown appearing on his lips as he stared beseechingly at Jūshirō who shrugged helpless. Shunsui glanced between the two of them and said, “You both are too dour, come on it’s a hot day and there’s a lake right in front of us!”

Jūshirō grinned only to shriek in surprise as an iron grip encapsulated his wrist and pulled him towards the water. Jūshirō yelled Shunsui’s name but the absolute madman ignored him as he pulled Jūshirō into the water.

It was cold, it shivered up his legs and splashed along his torso as Shunsui dragged him further into the water till it was up to their hips, only then did Shunsui stop grinning at him with wide eyes. Jūshirō cursed under his breath and rubbed at his arms till the warmth of the sun returned.

“Come on and join us Ichigo!”

Shunsui called out to their friend who was standing with his feet in the water watching the two of them with a smile that was visible even from a distance. In the sunlight, Ichigo seemed to glow. Their friend heaved a sigh before wading further in cursing the cold temperature in a manner that nearly made Jūshirō blush until he was standing next to them.

An idea sprung up suddenly as he shifted his feet in the sand below their feet. As Shunsui admired the lake around them Jūshirō tapped Ichigo on the arm and flashed him a mischievous smile directing his gaze towards Shunsui. Ichigo grinned, bloodthirsty and terrifying as he nodded.

Shunsui was unprepared for the sudden assault they sprung on him. With a nod, Jūshirō and Ichigo submerged Shunsui in water leaving him spluttering and looking like a drowned cat. Their now-soaked friend stared at the two of them with a desultory look before a manic grin appeared and he splashed Jūshirō. He cursed at the cold temperature and retaliated splashing both Shunsui and Ichigo with laughter on his breath in the warmth of the sun.

X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! This chapter covered many things, some of which I was very excited to write about. So yes, Jūshirō is trans, its in the tags, but this chapter does really confirm it. Additionally, while reading you might notice some shifts in speech patterns, I’m not going to write in an old mannered style that takes four times as many words, but I try to illustrate how they would speak casually to each other and with themselves. Also does anyone want to guess the healer in the first scene? They are a canon character. Reviews/Comments are always appreciated, till next time!
> 
> *(2019-09-01) I've removed the explicit scene that was previously here. Apologies to anyone who enjoyed it but I personally felt uncomfortable having it up (I'm not a smut writer of any kind).


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, we are here with another chapter. This chapter semi-picks up from the last chapter, but they can be read as separate scenes. Thanks to everyone for the positive reviews on the last chapter, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> *Just a note: this chapter has a scene that deals with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and a flashback is referenced but not shown.
> 
>  
> 
> Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo

X

The floor was cool beneath his bare feet, the polished wood glinted strangely in the light seeping in through the windows, all varnished reflections. Jūshirō tugged the haori he threw over his shoulders closer to his body as his gaze swept the halls. It was late, or perhaps early, far too early for anyone to brave the all-encompassing solitude that filled the space between waking. Some part of Jūshirō wanted to return to his room, to the warmth of his own bed.

But sleep would not come easily, he had tried, and his thoughts had been plagued by the lingering whisper of dreams. Dreams that contained a truth Jūshirō wasn’t certain he was ready to face. The cold of the wood beneath his feet helped to ground Jūshirō as he let his feet lead him through the hallways of the academy, there wasn’t a destination in mind but Jūshirō felt there was something to reach all the same.

Shunsui and Ichigo. His closest friends, who Jūshirō had shared everything with. Ichigo was a recent addition but he had slotted into their lives as if he was always meant to be there. His laughter, far too rare as it was, the curl of his lips when they conspired against Shunsui, the tired exhale after a spar, the brush of his hand as they browsed the local markets, the bliss and relief on his features that appeared when he thought no one was looking.

Shunsui whose eyes were always riveted on Jūshirō when he spoke, whose lips would quirk to reveal the flash of teeth when he challenged them, the laughter that deep laughter that curled through all of Jūshirō, the casual affection, the brush of a shoulder, tap of a thigh, the way his voice dipped and lulled like the waves, the pure love of life he showed when surrounded by food and friends.

Gods but Jūshirō loved his friends. And perhaps that was the thought that scared him? Was he running away? These feelings, they weren’t unnatural, but Jūshirō liked his friendship with Ichigo and Shunsui. Some part of him wondered about what could happen if they tried it and it didn’t work out. It scared him, the kind that brought a chill to his skin, the thought of just drifting away from them, seeing the two of them but never speaking, only watching and seeing the lost chance.

If they even accepted, it? And why would they? Some form of pity he supposed. Because in the end, why would they want to be with someone who was ill, likely terminally so, who was weak, wouldn’t be able to support them. Jūshirō could wield a zanpaktou and cast kido, but he would never be able to advance because of a weakness he couldn’t control or overcome.

Jūshirō coughed out a bitter laugh, running a hand over his features as he leaned against the wall for a moment. His breath felt too short in his lungs like it was desperate to escape along with the rest of him. Jūshirō prayed desperately that it wasn’t his lungs rebelling. Wouldn’t it be funny, to find him in the morning collapsed on the floor?

Shunsui would berate him for it, Ichigo would stare at him with those eyes that could guilt a man into anything. And there it was, Jūshirō couldn’t stand to lose them, in any shape or form. They were who Jūshirō shared everything with, they were the ones who reassured him, pulled him away when he spent too much time on their work, who made him laugh and smile. They were his world. Jūshirō knew he could survive without that, but the universe would be a lonely place without it.

Pushing off from the wall Jūshirō shook his head, he couldn’t focus on that, if they ever showed interest Jūshirō would see where everything led. But there was no point contemplating what could be. Even if they decided to haunt his thoughts like the ignorant bastards they were.

Jūshirō paused as he passed one of the large windows that, during the day, often provided large beams of warm sunlight, he took a step back and squinted through the pane of glass. On the roof of the building that housed some of the student dormitories, there was someone sitting. In the light of the moon cast high in the sky above, Jūshirō could see the burnt orange hair on the person’s head.

Only one person had that hair colour. Jūshirō tipped his head against the window with a long-suffering sigh. They both knew Ichigo had insomnia, that he had trouble sleeping in general. But Jūshirō was not, and likely never would be, prepared to see his friend seated on the roof of a building at two in the morning.

For a moment, Jūshirō was sorely tempted to exit the building and attempt to reach Ichigo. He glanced down at his own bare feet, and out the window once more before Jūshirō dismissed the idea with a sigh. Sometimes, it was best to leave Ichigo alone even when it broke Jūshirō’s heart to leave Ichigo to dwell in whatever dragged his soul down and dimmed the light in his eyes. He didn’t even know how to help Ichigo.

Some days he was better, but there were days where Ichigo wouldn’t even leave his room. A part of Jūshirō wanted to help Ichigo, but he wasn’t certain how to. They both knew to be careful when touching Ichigo and to refrain from topics he was uncomfortable with. He knew they could do more. Somehow.

Turning from the window Jūshirō let his feet continue to lead him. It felt colder as if the morning had entered its domain at last and with it the sun waiting on the edge of the world. Summer was fast approaching and with it, Jūshirō hoped warmer weather. Yet it was cold.

Time passed in the breath of a song heard from another room, snatches of lyrics as he walked and simply felt the quiet of the world around him. His feet stopped.

Jūshirō glanced at his surroundings, he was at the entrance to the dojo their class often spared in. Jūshirō paused and stared at the darkened doorway, hesitant and wondering why his path had led here. Refusing to turn back, Jūshirō sucked in a breath of courage and entered the darkened room.

Thin beams of moonlight pierced the inky void that surrounded him, highlighting the pale wood, and catching on a rack of shinai. There was someone in the room. Jūshirō squinted at the vague shape, kneeling in the centre of the room, a beam of pale moonlight fell suddenly on the figure and Jūshirō’s eyes widened as he recognized the mop of curly brown hair that could only belong to Shunsui.

It seemed none of them could find sleep tonight Jūshirō mused as he entered the dojo, the wood well-worn beneath his feet as he padded silently forward. Shunsui’s body tensed for a moment before it settled and remained still; or what constituted as still for Shunsui which was usually fiddling with something. Jūshirō settled on the floor in front of Shunsui in a rustle of cloth as his haori fanned out around him.

In the moonlight, Shunsui looked sharper, the line of his jar, the bridge of his nose, the curve of his lashes resting on his cheeks. He wanted to reach forward and trace the line of his jaw, place his fingers over Shunsui’s lips and feel the breath there. Instead, he watched quietly, feeling like he was drifting as if sleep had decided its upon next victim.

When Jūshirō was nearly half-asleep Shunsui’s eyes flickered open, the brown of his eyes was like the bark of a tree, like the rich soil of the earth, like the first taste of autumn. He blinked and let the faintest smile spread across his lips and up to his eyes. Shunsui mirrored the expression his hand reached out and brushed over Jūshirō’s cheek a frown appearing at the chilled skin before he shook his head.

“I can almost hear her.”

Shunsui murmured in the space between them his eyes almost glowing as they stared at Jūshirō with an expression he couldn’t quantify. Jūshirō cupped Shunsui’s hand still resting on his cheek and replied, “I’m glad. I’m certain you’ll discover the name of your zanpaktou soon.”

He nodded, his eyes were so dark that Jūshirō felt lost gazing into them. Shunsui leaned forward resting his head against Jūshirō’s the space between their breaths small and intimate. In a hushed breath, he whispered, “Can you believe we’re almost upon our third year?”

Jūshirō shook his head, it seemed such a strange thought. Their second year had dragged on until Ichigo appeared and then time seemed to have fallen away. Shunsui grinned, the expression feral in the darkness before it slipped to something softer.

“I wish like we could stay like this forever. No responsibilities, just me, you, and Ichigo.”

Shunsui whispered something in his voice aching and resonating inside Jūshirō’s chest. He nodded ever so slightly and pressed his forehead against Shunsui’s letting his eyes slide close he murmured, “Forever is a long time. But if I could spend it with the both of you, it would certainly seem like only a second.”

He laughed that deep sound that hummed through Jūshirō and made his own lips curl caught in the enthusiasm of his friend. Shunsui stroked a thumb over his cheek staring at Jūshirō with a tender gaze.

“Do you remember when we first met? I was on the ground after a girl had slapped me and you offered me your hand.”

Shunsui questioned his lips curled and eyes fond with reminiscence. Jūshirō nodded, the memory seemed so long ago and yet at the same time so close, as if the moment that divided before and after.

“Yes, and then by the next week you had convinced me to aid you in your pranks.”

He replied with a huff of laughter a pout tugging at his lips. Shunsui’s thumb roved over Jūshirō’s cheek dangerously close to his mouth before it pulled away and he nodded with a little puff of air that Jūshirō could feel.

“I feel like we’ve known each other forever. We’ve done everything together.”

“Surely not everything,” Jūshirō replied to the murmured comment even as he hummed in agreement studying Shunsui under the beams of moonlight, the paleness of his skin, the darkness of his eyes that made his toes curl, the dimple curled in his smile. Shunsui’s thumb stroked over his cheek and with a breathy murmur he added, “If I could I would spend the rest of eternity making memories together.”

Jūshirō hummed and let his eyes flutter close feeling safe and warm and home. He could hear Shunsui’s heartbeat as his friend tucked him against his chest carding his hand through the strands of his hair. He could feel sleep now creeping over him like a blanket in hazy warmth.

“If forever existed I would spend it-“

He heard Shunsui mumble the words reverberating in Shunsui’s chest as Jūshirō let sleep claim him once more.

X

The sun shone brightly above them, casting everything in a golden hue from the long grass of the clearing to the wood bleached a polished brown turned soft under the light. Jūshirō felt warmth saturating him, filling his being and bringing with it a content sort of drowsiness. Ichigo sitting beside him seemed in the same frame of mind, his eyes were closed, the soft flutter of lashes like starlight, and his head tipped slightly forward as if he was on the verge of allowing sleep to claim him.

They were on the veranda of one of the outdoor training areas, one that had been abandoned for more than a few years. It was overgrown and quiet yet still managed to root itself in some form of civilization. Jūshirō had discovered it within the first month at the academy, tired of the overwhelming noise and life the other students could provide. They sometimes came to train, but it most often served as a retreat from everything.

There had been a spar, Jūshirō could feel the sweat cool now at the base of his spine, the lingering exertion of his lungs attempting to function as normal. But it had been half an hour ago, stopped under the relentless heat of the sun above. It didn’t quite matter, Ichigo had been winning anyway. Sparring with Ichigo was always an experience, he didn’t quite play, but he guided and demonstrated new technique and then forced Jūshirō to use it; it was always an educational experience.

It had also been a bonus to see Ichigo under the heat, bright hair plastered to his skin, cheeks almost feverish, eyes glinting, the pace of his breath heaving through parted lips. Jūshirō stopped his train of thought at the growing heat in the pit of his stomach and the blood rising to his cheeks.

Ichigo shifted beside him, dragged a hand through the still damp locks of hair clinging to his forehead and grasped his zanpaktou where it rested beside him. The blade slid out of the sheath with a hiss, loud and jarring in the quiet of the clearing, Ichigo stared at the blade for a moment an inscrutable expression on his features. Suddenly, Ichigo drew his thumb over the blade in a tender caress, like one might greet an old lover, no blood welled from Ichigo’s thumb and a tender smile appeared.

Jūshirō had always suspected that Ichigo already knew his zanpaktou’s name, the way in which he moved with the blade was a testament to that alone; it was as if they were one being. But that moment more than anything else spoke of it to Jūshirō. No one else looked at their blade like that.

But it was unlikely the theory would be confirmed until Ichigo decided to. There were still so many things about Ichigo he didn’t know, and what he did was vague, like glimpsing at the reflection in a pond; it was only a surface view.

He had siblings, one sister who was good at cooking and liked clothing, another who wasn’t always his sister, and tried to emulate him, a distant father (that was only gleaned through a passing remark), he liked poetry and books though he often hid it, was a fan of homestyle cooking, absolutely hated mochi, thought many things were ‘stupid’, and believed in his role as a protector. Jūshirō felt he could list it all, all the traits and little things that they knew made Ichigo who he was, and it would only fill a page.

Jūshirō didn’t pry though. He couldn’t not when he knew that something had happened to shape Ichigo into who he was. A part of Jūshirō hoped that one day Ichigo would trust him with that information.

Ichigo re-sheathed his zanpaktou with another hiss that echoed in the clearing, he stared at the sheath, one Shunsui had shown him, with a smile before setting it down. Jūshirō glanced at his own zanpaktou just as Ichigo asked, “Have you met your spirit yet?”

Jūshirō shook his head and ran a hand through his hair soaking in the rays of sunlight across his face he responded, “No, but I feel I’m close, there is something behind the water, and a voice that is getting clearer. I… I feel they are expecting something, a thing that I must accomplish, or for me to do something before they will deign to appear.”

“It’s possible, sometimes you have to know yourself before you can know your spirit.”

Ichigo responded with a shrug, there was something in his tone that conveyed experience and behind it something bitter. Jūshirō hummed an acknowledgement and wondered if that was what they were waiting for. Did he not know himself as well as he had thought? There had been no clues unlike with Shunsui, only the taste of stepping closer to the water’s edge. Shunsui who was off trying to finish an assignment last minute.

“My spirit, the first time I met him, he tried to kill me.”

Ichigo stated casually his eyes fixed on the clearing as if he was commenting on the pleasant afternoon. Jūshirō blinked nonplussed before the meaning of the statement hit him and he asked in an outraged whisper, “What?”

“Oh yes, I suppose that does seem sort of strange. But that’s always been our dynamic. It was hectic when I first made contact, and it was simply crazy from that point on, I don’t think we ever really got the chance to sit down and talk it out till later. We were always fighting, someone compared us to squabbling siblings once. But the bastard is still a part of me.”

Ichigo finished with a huff crossing his arms over his chest his eyes distant and tone fond. Jūshirō hummed an acknowledgement as if Ichigo hadn’t just dropped the equivalent of a hurricane of information into Jūshirō’s lap and expected him to deal with it.

“That sounds difficult, I can’t imagine fighting yourself for so long.”

“I guess that was kind of what it was. But there was a lot of confusion between us, we both didn’t communicate well, and I was younger, brasher, a bit more impulsive.”

Ichigo responded quietly, fingers playing with the hem of his sleeve. Jūshirō studied his friend for a moment, thought on all he had revealed, and responded innocently, “Only a little bit brasher?”

His friend blinked at the remark and squinted at Jūshirō for a moment before the expression folded into a glare as Ichigo shook his head. There was mirth in the gesture though it was well hidden. After a moment, Ichigo sighed and tipped his head back, something in him appeared to settle, in a way Jūshirō hadn’t seen. As if Ichigo knew he was safe.

Ichigo’s hand folded into Jūshirō’s his flesh warm against his own. Jūshirō blinked and turned to face Ichigo who was staring at him, everything about Ichigo was soft, none of the harshness he presented to the rest of the world as a finger came up to push aside a stray hair.

“You’re… God the way you look right now.”

Ichigo whispered the words so faint Jūshirō wasn’t certain if he heard correctly, though the blood that rushed to his cheeks seemed certain. Ichigo grinned, just a little tilt of his lips that made his eyes seem to glow from within. Jūshirō smiled back, let the warmth of the afternoon seep into his skin as he stared at Ichigo, and he stared back the moment stretched between them mingling with their breaths.

Crash. The sound was loud, jarring, likely a tree in the nearby woods had fallen. Jūshirō heaved out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and returned to his skin as he turned to Ichigo to comment on the suddenness of it; the summer had been unusually dry.

Ichigo was frozen, still, almost unnaturally so. His eyes were wide, unblinking staring past Jūshirō, past everything. He had just stopped. Jūshirō blinked suddenly concerned and tried to recall where he had seen this before. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t know how to help his friend. Ichigo was just sitting there, unblinking, but Jūshirō had the sinking feeling that something was very wrong. God, where had he seen this before?

What was he supposed to do? Shake Ichigo? Call his name? Get help? Where had he seen this before? Jūshirō could feel panic seeping beneath his skin striking at his thoughts rendering him as helpless as Ichigo. Forcing his thoughts to a halt Jūshirō took a breath and focused. Where had he seen this?

The instructor. She had done something similar once when a kido had gone wrong, she had gone still, so utterly still and no one had known what to do. They had all been frozen like her unsure and waiting, for someone to do something. Jūshirō was ashamed to admit that he had been as still as everyone else, watching, waiting. Someone had eventually gotten the nurse from the med bay.

He had swept into the room, eyes narrowed, countenance grim, as if this was a wound far more life-threatening than a sword. He hadn’t touched her, he had called her name, repeated it gently, moved slowly until their teacher had come unstuck. They had learned about the other scars battle could leave that day.

Returning his attention to the situation at hand, Jūshirō took a deep breath and pushed his own panic aside, pushed all the fear and concern for his friend to the side and focused on Ichigo. He wasn’t blinking, barely breathing, just existing, trapped in his own mind.

“Ichigo.”

Jūshirō said quietly, it stirred no reaction from him he tried again, “Ichigo. Do you know where you are? We’re at the academy, a tree fell. Ichigo it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re in a safe space.”

He continued the mantra speaking slowly and carefully, watching Ichigo as he blinked, slow, laboriously. Pausing for a moment, Jūshirō swallowed and glanced around their surroundings. Ichigo’s zanpaktou was resting innocently beside its wielder. He debated for only a moment over the grave taboo of touching another’s zanpaktou and aiding Ichigo before he slowly reached over and picked up the sheathed weapon.

“Ichigo I’m going to give you your zanpaktou, do you want to hold it? You’re safe, you’re here Ichigo.”

Jūshirō continued and watched as Ichigo’s head shifted in the barest inclination of a nod. Slowly Jūshirō placed the weapon in Ichigo’s hands and watched as his fingers clenched the sheath, white-knuckled as his fingers traced the polished wood.

He continued to speak, the words flowing from his mouth steadily and slowly as the sun continued to fall upon them, strange and unnatural in the face of his friend’s distress. Jūshirō spoke in that vein for what felt like hours, but was likely only fifteen minutes, when Ichigo began to blink quickly, his breath shifted from something strained to fast and uncontrollable.

Ichigo blinked and he was suddenly there, and not at the same time. He stared at Jūshirō, eyes wide tears brimming there as his fingers clutched weakly at the sword in his hands. With a whisper that was parched and crooked, he said, “Jūshirō?”

“It’s okay Ichigo, you’re here, you’re safe. A tree fell, you’re here with me at the academy, you’re okay.”

He responded carefully glancing into Ichigo’s eyes as he spoke with conviction. Ichigo nodded his breath shuddering through him as he tugged his knees close to his chest for a moment before he shook his head and scrubbed at his eyes.

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

Jūshirō questioned softly, his heart aching to see his friend, his strong, brash friend, vulnerable and with tears pooling in his eyes. Ichigo nodded and Jūshirō settled a gentle hand on his shoulder moving it in small circular motions as Ichigo tried to get his breathing under control, he breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth each inhale a deep motion as Ichigo blinked away the tears.

He wondered how many times Ichigo had suffered through this alone.

After another fifteen minutes, Ichigo uncurled, he stretched his legs out and hesitantly leaned against Jūshirō until he tilted his body and Ichigo planted his head in his lap with a broken laugh and a sigh.

“God…”

Ichigo said quietly, a curse, a prayer he couldn’t tell. Jūshirō stroked his fingers through Ichigo’s hair, the strands like silk, the motion careful and gentle as Ichigo set his zanpaktou beside him on the polished wood with a precise movement.

Silence filled the air, the sun slanted across Jūshirō’s features as it began to list towards the horizon. They waited in the silence, Jūshirō uncertain what to say, how to approach what had happened other than to stroke his fingers through Ichigo’s hair and glance at him. Ichigo’s hand trailed over Jūshirō’s to rest on his pulse for a moment before he dropped his hand and sighed, his body slouching against the wood beneath him.

“Hypothetically speaking if… if someone wasn’t able if they failed to save everyone. Would you blame them?”

Ichigo questioned the words were pulled from his lips with great weight. Jūshirō blinked and stared at Ichigo, whose eyes were closed head tilted to the side but unable to hide the furrow of his brow and the tremble of his lips.

“Did that person kill them, hypothetically?”

Jūshirō questioned running his fingers through Ichigo’s hair and over the curve of his cheek in a slow pass. Ichigo shuddered he opened his mouth and closed it as features fell apart before he responded, “Not with hi-their own hands but-“

“Then, hypothetically, the blame lays with the one who killed them. We cannot control the actions of others, and no matter how much we strive against fate, destiny, the gods, we can’t always defy it. If someone gave their all, pushed beyond their limits and beyond, then they are not at fault, they didn’t kill anyone.”

Ichigo turned his face into Jūshirō’s thigh, his body shuddered and shook in silent sobs. Jūshirō curved his body as if he could shield Ichigo from his past, his arms encircled Ichigo’s body and moved his hands in soothing circular motions as he hummed, something nonsensical a vague memory of his mother stroking her hands through his hair.

“Jūshirō?”

Ichigo spoke, his name muffled against his thigh before Ichigo turned his face upwards, sunlight catching golden on the tears trailing his cheeks and the watery cast of his eyes. Jūshirō swiped a finger over his cheek and shifted a strand of bright hair away from Ichigo’s eyes as he nodded.

A smile slipped across sharp features blinding and brilliant lighting up beneath Ichigo’s eyes deeper even than that as a hand came up to cup Jūshirō’s cheek, fluttered against his eyelashes and passed quickly over his lips as Ichigo murmured, “Thank you.”

Jūshirō blushed, he could feel the heat blooming beneath his cheek as he stared down at Ichigo, saw something so achingly tender in those eyes connected with his own that he leant closer of his own accord as if to draw what was between them into reality.

Ichigo blinked something slow and languid before a frown tugged at his lips, and he leaned his forehead against Jūshirō’s, his fingers threading through the hair at the back of Jūshirō’s head with a sigh. Jūshirō felt as if he could hear his heart pounding as he stared into deep brown eyes and a gentle finger passed over the shell of his ear. Ichigo pulled away a moment later with a rough exhale of air as he scraped a hand over his features; he looked regretful.

He felt confused and hurt. Why was Ichigo pulling away? Had he done something wrong? Broken some invisible boundary? Ichigo turned to glance at Jūshirō and his face fell for a brief moment before he flashed an apologetic smile that laid the blame with himself.

Jūshirō didn’t want to let it go, he wanted to push Ichigo down against the wood, force him to see him and acknowledge him, run his hands through those strands of hair that were never tamed. But he couldn’t.

So instead, he nodded and flashed an understanding smile before he leaned his shoulder against Ichigo’s and glanced out at the clearing. The sun had painted the sky in an explosion of colours, all blurring together in a way that made Jūshirō, for a single moment, so very happy to be alive.

Jūshirō glanced to Ichigo, who was staring at the sunset with a sappy little smile. He threaded his fingers through Ichigo’s and wondered what made Ichigo the way he was, wondered if his friend would ever be able to look at him without that grief and guilt in his eyes. Jūshirō wanted to see Ichigo happy.

X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May I say that Jūshirō is oblivious as f*ck like honestly, he’s smart but dumb when it comes to love. Thank you all for reading this chapter, I hope you enjoyed the dynamic between everyone, the last scene was really interesting (and emotionally draining) to write. Reviews/comments are always appreciated, till next time!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, so this chapter refused to be written, but I managed and here we are. I think this story will be going on hiatus for a few weeks as exam season occurs (and I’ve been focusing on another fic to be truthful). But don’t worry this fic won’t be abandoned, it will be finished. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo

X

The library was quiet, the shuffle of paper, the smell of old books and polished wood. It was near empty, and though it was quite small Jūshirō was always surprised when he could see another student amidst the rolls of bound scrolls and thin tomes. Perched at a desk overlooking a window onto the grounds, Jūshirō glanced idly at the sprawl of paper containing Ichigo’s short and almost harsh handwriting, there were papers with Shunsui’s writing, but Jūshirō had elected to ignore those.

His eyes drifted towards the doors at the end of the library, at the thought of his friends, before he tugged them once more to the assignment on the theory of something vaguely related to morals and ethics. Jūshirō was disgusted on a daily basis by the fact that their teacher was a simpering idiot who wouldn’t understand complexity if it thrust a sword through his heart. Shunsui and Ichigo were inclined to agree. And so, Jūshirō usually wrote whatever nonsensical words that would most appeal to their professor.

Ethics and morality, sometimes Jūshirō wasn’t certain why they even had lessons on it, however sparse they were. How could someone teach that? Furthermore, Jūshirō had long been convinced that the Gotei 13 was not the pivotal shining influence of all things law-abiding that some people paraded around. There were assholes, people who were only in it to fight, genocide (that wasn’t spoken of often enough), and a hate of anything considered different.

Some part of Jūshirō hoped they could change things from the inside, work their way up through the ranks, maybe change a few people. Shunsui was cynical at the best of times and it made Jūshirō reconsider why they were still at the academy. Ichigo didn’t say anything when they talked about it, his eyes just got that certain shine that was something like liquid determination.

Drumming his fingers on the desk, Jūshirō heaved a sigh and dragged his thoughts back to the assignment. He could procrastinate and daydream about the future later. The librarian, a thin person who Jūshirō had never ascertained their gender, passed by his desk, glanced at the multitude of sheets and continued on without a word. Letting his head drop to the desk Jūshirō squinted at the words and grabbed the brush, dipping it into the inkwell nearby as he began.

The sound of the doors to the library opening registered vaguely in Jūshirō’s mind, something he knew he was waiting for even as he continued to wax on about the Seven Exulted Virtues and the way each person must strive to demonstrate them and so on and so forth. It was the sound of approaching footsteps that cut Jūshirō’s focus and dragged his eyes from the paper to the side where he could see Ichigo and Shunsui approaching, talking to each other with a casual air.

They slid into the empty seats in one smooth motion nodding to Jūshirō with muffled grins as if they had always been there. Ichigo began to shuffle through the papers with a slight frown that curled his features even as Shunsui leaned back into the chair and with a quirked eyebrow questioned, “Alibi?”

“You were just speaking with Megumi-san on the way back from retrieving Shunsui’s work, which he left in his room.”

Jūshirō supplied helpfully as he flipped through a small book bound with old leather, there weren’t many books in the library, most of the scrolls were old student assignments who had scored a high enough grade. Shunsui nodded with a grin that stole something in Jūshirō even as Ichigo hummed and questioned, “Megumi?”

“Owes a favour, and immunity in return.”

Shunsui supplied with a shrug as his gaze switched to Jūshirō and a pout pulled at his lips. Jūshirō resisted the urge to give in, it was a valiant battle, he could almost hear his zanpaktou spirit laughing at his struggle as he shook his head and replied, “I’m not helping you. I already have enough work to do.”

“It’s not my fault you think my plans are sloppy!”

His friend protested almost loudly before his volume dropped as he glanced at their surroundings. Jūshirō muffled an amused sound into his sleeve, Ichigo was far blunter as he shook his head and interjected, “Shu, you’re absolutely terrible at planning. Genius ideas, but without us, I feel you would be in the Soutaicho’s office every day.”

Jūshirō nodded in agreement, Shunsui glanced between the two of them with a betrayed look before he mumbled, “We still get caught no matter what.”

“Yes, but a plan well enacted is a plan well admired.”

Jūshirō responded gaily as he finished a particularly droning sentence that was sure to please their teacher. Ichigo glanced at Jūshirō’s paper with a raised brow even as he nodded and set his own sheet down. Shunsui frowned but didn’t dispute the argument, instead he was staring at Jūshirō his eyes soft in the light of the window.

Glancing at his papers for a brief moment Jūshirō steeled himself and ventured, “Just because you’re bringing out the eyes doesn’t mean I’m letting you copy me.”

“But Jūshirō.”

Shunsui whined in response, his bottom lip trembling for a moment before the tableau cracked at Ichigo’s muffled laughter. Jūshirō rolled his eyes and Shunsui grinned, all exhilaration at a successful mission.

“Oh, have you heard about the recent break-ins?”

Shunsui questioned casually in an obvious attempt to change the subject as he rested his head in his hand and rolled his fingers over a few stones he had collected with the other hand. Ichigo shook his head, interest lining his body as he placed the paper down. Jūshirō nodded and asked, “The ones at Central 46, right?”

“Central 46?”

Ichigo questioned with a tilt of his head that shouldn’t be so endearing Jūshirō thought mildly as he shared a glance with Shunsui, who was frowning and replied, “I keep forgetting you missed our lecture on that. They’re relatively new, by which I mean a few centuries old. They were established, apparently, on the mandate of the Soul King. They’re supposed to be something like a judicial governing body separate from the Gotei 13.”

“So why does it matter that someone broke into the Central 37 or whatever?”

Ichigo questioned something in his tone sharp, almost acidic. Jūshirō blinked at the almost sudden change in tone and spared a short glance at Shunsui who nodded in acknowledgement and replied, “They hold records of… well, everything. You name it, people, information, history. Not to mention they’re supposed to be highly secured, so someone breaking in has to be powerful.”

“Do we know what was stolen?”

Shunsui questioned turning a smile that was all charm on Jūshirō, he wondered when he had become the designated gossip monger of their friend group. Rolling his eyes Jūshirō shook his head and replied, “No, there’s rumours it was archives or records, but no one knows what. They’re locked down tight there.”

Ichigo quirked a brow but said nothing, Shunsui frowned but let the topic drop as he turned pleading eyes on Ichigo who only scoffed with eyes that condemned. Jūshirō shook his head at his friends’ antics and returned half his attention to the paper as Shunsui whined and grumbled and did the same.

The doors to the library slid open once more, deafening in the thick silence. Jūshirō’s eyes flickered from his paper to Ichigo and finally to the door where a Shinigami stood scanning the room with narrowed eyes. He murmured a quick prayer as the Shinigami’s eyes landed on the collection of students by the window and he began to stride forward every step seeming to echo louder and louder.

Shunsui’s eyes flickered as if plotting an escape route even as Ichigo narrowed his own eyes and pursed his lips. Jūshirō smiled pleasantly at the Shinigami, he could be searching for the three of them for a multitude of reasons least of which was their recently finished prank that would turn any unfortunate soul into a walking stick of honey.

The Shinigami paused within a foot of the table, his eyes swept briefly once over the three of them before he announced, “The Soutaicho wishes to see you in his office immediately.”

Jūshirō nodded with a pleasant smile dismissing the Shinigami who was obviously intent on chaperoning the three of them he added, “We can find the way on our own thank you very much for delivering the message.”

The Shinigami blushed and then rapidly paled as he nodded once and departed with a swift step. Jūshirō turned to Ichigo and Shunsui who were sharing a grin that quickly devolved into a look of terror and grim acceptance separately.

“Do you think he knows, already?”

Shunsui questioned with a frown dragging a finger over the curve of his jaw and the stubble there. Jūshirō shrugged breathing in and resisting the urge to kiss his friend with an iron will as he pushed away from the table and gathered his papers together. He smiled at his friends, assured in their plan he replied, “There’s only one way to find out.”

Ichigo sighed but began to gather his things, Jūshirō quirked a brow at the strange expression that passed briefly over Shunsui’s features before he too packed away his papers. Jūshirō stared at the sheet in his hand for a forlorn moment, he had been hoping to spend the afternoon finishing assignments.

The hallway that led to the Soutaicho’s office was, as always, empty and almost startlingly quiet. Jūshirō huffed under his breath as he continued to walk, Shunsui trudged behind him and Ichigo walked as if a man without purpose. It was almost as if they weren’t preparing for battle.

The Shinigami guarding the doorway nodded once in greeting and opened the door in one graceful swing, Jūshirō nodded in thanks and entered the room. The Soutaicho was standing, staring out the window at the district that bordered part of the academy. The old man turned as the three of them entered, quiet in a manner that wasn’t threatening but heavy all the same and gestured for them to be seated.

Jūshirō sat in the middle with a grace he didn’t feel he possessed, his friends settled on either side of him quiet in the still atmosphere. The Soutaicho turned and stared at the three of them, his eyes like embers beneath his thick brows.

It felt as if the Soutaicho was staring at him and for a moment he wondered if he knew. Had one of the students from the lake told the Soutaicho? Did everyone know? Were they staring at him in the hallways? Talking about him?

It didn’t scare him, that the Soutaicho knew. Maybe it did. The Gotei 13 couldn’t afford to discriminate on the most basic of levels, not when they were scrambling for spiritually aware citizens to fill their ranks. However, discrimination would always be a part of the Gotei 13, they were a military organization and sexism was as much a part of it as breathing was normal for humans. There was a reason only two female captains filled the ranks.

What scared him was the thought of everyone knowing before he chose to tell them. Of people staring at him in the hallways, dissecting his body with their eyes, asking questions they held no right to ask. Questioning everything about him. His gender was a part of who he was, but it didn’t define him. And yet, there was a reason Jūshirō didn’t wish for the information to be widely known.

The Soutaicho sighed a deep motion that made the lines on his face stand out and made the man seem older as if the weight of both Soutaicho and headmaster was suddenly visible. He stared at the three of them in turn for a long moment and as he settled in his seat said, “I think I am almost getting too old to be running the Gotei 13 and heading the academy.”

Jūshirō blinked at the statement, it was unusual to hear the Soutaicho speak in something that wasn’t akin to an order; unusual to see the man as human. The man studied the three of them once more and shook his head at their blank expressions before he asked, “You are all doing well in your studies?

He glanced to Shunsui who was frowning and then to Ichigo who was studying his hands with an expression Jūshirō would best describe as lost. He felt much the same. Playing with the hem of his sleeve Jūshirō answered, “Yes, we were just working on an assignment in the library when we received your summons.”

The Soutaicho’s eye twinkled at the white lie but the man nodded and said nothing as he stroked a hand through the coarse black hair of his beard. After a moment of silence, he added, “All three of you show great promise. I expect great things of you in the coming year. Shunsui, Jūshirō, thank you for welcoming Ichigo so heartily to the academy.”

Jūshirō inclined his head in thanks, Shunsui and Ichigo mirrored the gesture before glancing up at the Soutaicho who dismissed the three of them with a nod. As Jūshirō moved to exit the doorway the Soutaicho called out, “Oh and all three of you shall be cleaning the dojos for the next three weeks. That was a very cunning plan.”

Shunsui groaned and stopped only for Ichigo to push him out of the doorway as Jūshirō nodded with a wry smile of suffering and bid the Soutaicho farewell with a bow. Nothing seemed to escape the man. As they filed into the hallway, Shunsui questioned, “Is he punishing us for the last prank or this one?”

Ichigo snorted before he devolved into full-blown laughter, bending over his knees as he gasped for breath. Jūshirō patted his friend on the back and let his amusement manifest in a bright grin as he studied his friends.

Jūshirō wondered if they were truly ready for the coming year, laughter echoed at the back of his head and Jūshirō resolved that if he was to do anything it would be to discover his zanpaktou’s name. And maybe, possibly, get together with his friends.

X

The evening hummed with an energy that was almost tangible, soft in the glow of the lanterns and the faint hum of music in the distance. Jūshirō leaned over the railing of the bridge and stared at the dark waters laughing below, the stars caught in their arms. His breath was almost visible in the chill air that autumn had delivered with glee, but the cloth covering Jūshirō’s shoulders was thick and the green silk scarf, a gift from Ichigo, kept his neck warm. 

Idly, Jūshirō traced a finger over the grains of wood that formed the bridge, his eyes drifted from the endless depth of the river below to the nearby market where children ran with lanterns in their hands their laughter almost audible. There was a sweet aroma in the air and music still drifted faintly on the wind all strings and a humming sort of tune. A festival, one to celebrate the harvest.

Ichigo had told them about it, cornered Jūshirō with that light to his eyes and invited him, and upon questioning invited Shunsui. Jūshirō wondered how their friend had known about the festival, it seemed the type that was often celebrated by district, sometimes only in a collection of homes that shared the same history. It was perhaps better not to question how Ichigo came about what information he did.

Curling a palm over the hilt of his zanpaktou Jūshirō let the water in his mind roar to life blocking out everything. He closed his eyes and for a moment could see a shape reflecting in on itself reaching out, one hand, two, three, four, towards him. Then, laughter clear and tinkling like water and the image drifted away like mist.

Jūshirō blinked his eyes open and sighed, he was close, he felt as if the name was on the tip of his tongue, behind his ear, under his skin, close yet far. The sound of approaching footsteps drew Jūshirō from dreary musings, he glanced the length of the bridge and saw a shadow. The shadow approached and with it a halo of light casting away shards of fear as Shunsui grinned at Jūshirō, the light of the lantern caught on the corners of his eyes, the white of his teeth, and cast him in gold.

Pink was a good colour on Shunsui, Jūshirō decided as his friend stopped at his side setting the lantern on the bridge. The haori wrapped over his shoulders cast his eyes and hair shades darker and made the flush on his cheeks heady.

“Were you waiting long?”

Shunsui questioned his voice the wind on the back of Jūshirō’s neck as he turned to him. Shunsui’s eyes were captivating in the night surrounding them, a swirling mess of black that held its own gravitational force. Jūshirō shook his head a small smile curling across his lips, Shunsui mirrored the expression a gentle hand reaching up to trail the curve of his jaw with a flicker of something impossibly darker in his eyes.

Once more steps sounded on the hardwood of the bridge, faint almost invisible, but made to be known. Jūshirō jumped in surprise at the arm that wrapped around his torso and he glanced up briefly at Shunsui in confusion at the sudden act before his gaze fell to Ichigo.

In the darkness, his hair was the last burning embers of a fire and the colour on his cheeks seemed a bouquet of its own. Ichigo was frowning, that expression that almost seemed second nature to his friend, the expression cleared upon catching his eye and a tentative smile blossomed in its place.

Jūshirō glanced up at Shunsui who was grinning, a wide smile that was all teeth, he glanced between Ichigo and Shunsui with a raised brow before disentangling himself from Shunsui’s grasp. Planting his hands on his hips he faced his two friends as the wind whistled around them.

“Well?”

He intoned with a grin that felt infectious as Shunsui hooted pumping his fists in the air and Ichigo grinned and nodded. Shaking his head, Jūshirō laughed and wondered at the giddiness of the moment. Shunsui strode forward and locked arms with Jūshirō tugging Ichigo along with the other hand as they crossed the bridge entering the village.

It was louder, and everything was more, brighter, fuller. Children ran across their path as adults stood in circles conversing with each other and sharing sake. The sweet smell of dough and sugar filled the air as vendors peddled steaming buns, dango, and baked fruits. In one corner an old woman sat her hands moving in animated gestures as she regaled her audience with tales that had the barest possibility of truth. A band played in the centre of the village, their tune lilting and Jūshirō could see Shunsui perk up out of the corner of his eyes.

“So, what are we doing first?”

Shunsui questioned swinging around to face the two of them with a bounce in his step. Jūshirō grinned at his friend’s enthusiasm and turned to Ichigo who rested a hand on his jaw in a pensive position before he sagely declared, “Alcohol should always be the first order of business.”

“A fine decision, don’t you agree Jūshirō?”

Shunsui responded his gaze flickering to him as if seeking approval. Jūshirō nodded and responded, “I can go and get some for us.”

“Only one for me.”

Ichigo responded with a smile of gratitude, he had decided he would stay sober so that they all made it home. Jūshirō nodded and glanced to Shunsui who only grinned and winked in a way that tugged at the dimples in his cheeks. Rolling his eyes Jūshirō searched for a booth and made his way over, his fingers tracing over the coin in his hands.

The vendor was a middle-aged man who had a large hat and a moustache that seemed to curl in every which way. The man bowed in greeting and they exchanged token pleasantries as the man fetched three sake glasses, commenting on the chill of the night, the harvest of the village, the man’s family, Jūshirō’s friends. He handed the vendor the money with a smile and turned, cautiously balancing the three glasses in his hands he glanced towards his friends.

In the darkness dotted by lamplight, Jūshirō struggled to find his friends for a moment, glancing in a circle he spotted the two under the eave of a nearby house. They were standing apart from one another tension clear in the lines of their stance and Jūshirō paused for a moment confused.

“I saw what you were doing Shu, you’re not subtle.”

“What was I doing Ichi-go?”

“You had your arm around- oh hello Jūshirō.”

Ichigo turned, that sixth sense appearing once more as the tension drained from his friend’s posture and they both smiled in greeting as if nothing had occurred. Jūshirō masked the urge to frown and shifted the sake cups in his hand with a helpless smile pushing the conversation to the side to dissect later.

Were they jealous?

The thought slipped suddenly as Shunsui grinned and bumped his shoulder against Jūshirō’s lightly while he took the sake. Ichigo nodded in thanks and wrapped his fingers around the warm cup with a sigh that Jūshirō resonated with. Glancing at his own cup Jūshirō wondered if perhaps it was true.

Things had been tense between the two, almost competitive at times. Yet other times they couldn’t seem to turn away from each other.

Curls of steam floated from the hot drinks and with a clink, they each took a sip of the liquid, it was hot and cold all at once buzzing through his veins and burning on his tongue as he swallowed and savoured the warmth that filled his chest. Ichigo was staring at his cup with a strange expression that quickly disappeared; he was certain it had been loss. Shunsui had already finished his and Jūshirō quietly promised that he would not be supporting his friend in any endeavour involving copious amounts of alcohol.

“What do you say to getting some food?”

Ichigo questioned, his eyes darting around their surroundings observing everything, every movement with careful scrutiny. Shunsui nodded enthusiastically and Jūshirō smiled in agreement gesturing for Ichigo to choose. He stared at Jūshirō for a moment before he nodded and led the way to a vendor who had steaming buns that perfumed the air in a heady scent.

It was late or was it early? Jūshirō couldn’t quite tell, everything felt fuzzy and warm. Very warm. On the inside, but outside it was cold. He told this to Ichigo in a practical tone as his friend supported Shunsui who was drifting between consciousness and nirvana with a dopey grin. Someone had entered a drinking contest and it hadn’t been Jūshirō. Ichigo nodded adjusting Shunsui over his shoulders with a huff of breathless laughter as he commented, “You two are hopeless drunks.”

Jūshirō pouted at the mean comment and debated the merit of tackling Ichigo but decided against it. Instead, he stared for a long moment at Shunsui slumped against Ichigo and wished he could wrap his arms around Shunsui, bury his neck in the curls collecting at his neck.

“Is anyone there?”

Ichigo asked pausing to stare at Jūshirō, who only laterally realised he had stopped. Jūshirō laughed amused by the words for a reason he couldn’t quite understand as he nodded and caught up to Ichigo with an unsteady gait. Ichigo turned to stare at him and the stars above seemed to love him for it, Jūshirō stared before he stepped closer and touched the bright fire catching across Ichigo’s face.

“I love you both so much.”

Jūshirō whispered and the words felt right, felt true. Ichigo blanched, his expression slipped into shock and Jūshirō pressed his palm lightly against the curve of Ichigo’s cheek and nodded before adding, “Love you both so much, love you both.”

Ichigo laughed half delirious at the wispy almost sing-song quality of Jūshirō’s voice and curved his hand over Jūshirō’s own and added, “Come on we need to get you two home and into bed.”

“The same bed?”

Jūshirō questioned hopefully and watched as crimson spread across Ichigo’s features like a tidal wave and his mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish before he whispered in outrage, “Jūshirō!”

“Everyone forgets that I am not innocent.”

Jūshirō added with a nod and a proud smile, it was a true fact. Ichigo scrubbed a hand over his features and with a sigh that was half laughter tangled his hand in Jūshirō’s and tugged him forward. Jūshirō smiled at the warmth encasing his hand and bubbling up in his chest as he followed Ichigo and Shunsui home.

X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they got home, and nothing happened but Ichigo blushed a lot! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter; the last scene was pretty easy to write in comparison to the first. Reviews/comments are always appreciated, till next time!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, we have returned! I apologize for the hiatus, but I needed to take a break from this fic to work on something else. Also, this arc is almost finished, I’ll probably divide this fic into a series. So, once they’re finished at the academy that will be one part, and the next one would probably be them as young captains and Aizen. Anyways, read on and enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo

X

Jūshirō let his hands drift through the cool waters surrounding him, the feel of water sliding through his fingers registered distantly, like in a dream. Was this a dream? Jūshirō couldn’t be certain everything felt soft, almost too soft, like all the edges of reality were blurred, unreal. The sound of waves lapping at his body reached his ears and Jūshirō pushed himself slowly to a seated position, water dripped from his hair, down his spine, over his chest.

There was an endless lake surrounding him, it was clear and still like a mirror, and spread endlessly outwards touching an invisible horizon. There was no sky above him, and yet at the same time, there wasn’t nothing.

Plop, plop. The sound of feet wading through water reached Jūshirō faintly and he searched his surroundings. There was a figure running towards him, vague and hardly put together like mist in the distance but it grew solid and kicked up splashes of water that shined like diamonds as it ran towards him. He looked up, some undefinable urge prompting his gaze towards the not-sky, there was another figure running on the not-sky, a mirror image of the figure in front of Jūshirō.

He glanced between the two; lost. Then the figures were closer, water filling the air and hanging suspended as if frozen, all Jūshirō could see was blue, dark blue, white, and a flash of red so quick and brief he wasn’t certain if it was real. Giggles filled the air as the figure on the not-sky and the one in front of him tilted their heads at the same time, staring at Jūshirō, blurry around the edges and not quite there.

“Sōgyo”

“no”

“Ko-“

The rest was lost in a sound like static, but the first word rang clear and heavy, like damp snow sticking to one’s skin, like mist from the rain, it was there. Jūshirō tilted his head everything felt as if it was slipping through his fingers and the figures stared at him, expectant.

“I’m sorry, I can’t…”

He said, the words drifting away and echoing, bouncing distorted. The figures tilted their heads at Jūshirō, they didn’t laugh which felt in a sense more disconcerting. Suddenly, they ran forward at the same time, water gathered and flowed around them like a wave as they charged towards Jūshirō.

He shot awake.

Jūshirō’s breath heaved out of his lungs, rapid and uncontrolled and he felt drenched as if he had fallen into a pond. With a long exhale, Jūshirō glanced at his surroundings, he was in his dorm room, gentle sunlight filtered through the windows and everything was quiet, still.

He had fallen asleep and… and what? Entered his inner world? It felt right or true enough and it lingered on his mind like a dream, threatening to slip away if he didn’t force himself to recall it. He repeated the words, the beginning of something, a name he was almost certain.

They sat in the air and on his tongue and Jūshirō felt the words with something like joy because he was close to the name of his zanpaktou. Close and yet far. He hadn’t been able to hear the rest of it and he wondered why. It was like a game of hide and seek, trying and checking every location only to come up empty or with a faint clue.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Jūshirō heaved himself to his feet in a slow motion that pulled at the muscles in his spine. He stretched and felt the warmth of the sun on his back as he surveyed his room once more.

He needed to speak to Ichigo and Shunsui. Maybe they could help him understand it, or at least let him talk about it. It all felt bottled up at the moment, like something simply waiting to explode.

Pacing to the door, Jūshirō paused and tried to consider where they would be. Shunsui and Ichigo had been talking about a spar, but that had been in the early afternoon and he doubted they would still be in the dojo. Searching with his reaitsu, Jūshirō exited his dorm and stepped into the academy courtyard.

He felt them, like the centre of a storm, pressure and lightning, all gathered up in one of the less travelled areas. Jūshirō quirked a brow, rubbing a hand uneasily over his shoulders as he took a breath and gathered reaitsu beneath his feet and entered into a slow flash-step.

They were standing in the shadow of a building, the air was heavy with reaitsu, the wind whipped dust into the air and leaves scuttled about in a frenzy. Jūshirō paused at the edge of the building, concern rustling itself in his gut as he stared at his friends.

Shunsui had his katana unsheathed his stance appeared lazy but was laced with tension, Ichigo was standing tall his chin jutted out and his eyes were narrowed into slits. They were facing off against one another and reaitsu whipped between them as yelling filled the air.

“It doesn’t matter what I feel. So, what if I like Jūshirō and you do as well! It’s his choice.”

Ichigo said the words were sharp, bitten together and accompanied by a whip-like smack of reaitsu that struck the air from his lungs. What? What was going on? Jūshirō questioned unable to move, frozen, grounded into place. Watching, waiting for something he couldn’t quantify.

“I was his friend first, I’m the one that’s been there for him. You just appeared, out of nowhere! Were you there when he collapsed? When he was forced to deal with discrimination from the nobles, were you there when he almost died? You don’t deserve Jūshirō!”

Shunsui replied the words roared into the air and his katana glinted in the pale sunlight. Jūshirō’s hand flew over his mouth as if it could muffle the confusion bubbling up in his chest. Was it confusion? He couldn’t tell, and he couldn’t understand.

Were they fighting over him? Did they have feelings for him? Both of them? Why were they arguing, was this jealousy? How did this happen? Why didn’t he notice anything? Were they fighting over him?

“I was there. We both were Shunsui. But it doesn’t fucking matter, because it’s Jūshirō’s choice and I have the right to feel this way. It’s my choice if I want to confess to him. Whether he accepts or not because it is his choice.”

“You think I don’t know that! Of course, it's his choice, it always was. It’s Jūshirō. But none of this would have happened if… I wouldn’t feel this way!”

“What way?!”

Ichigo questioned as he pushed forward and fisted his hands in Shunsui’s shihakusho even, as Shunsui’s katana rested lightly at his neck. Shunsui frowned and Jūshirō could just see his face from where he was stuck, like watching everything from behind a window but it was all far too close, nothing to separate the worry, fear, concern, anger, and everything else.

There was a tension between the two of them that wasn’t just reaitsu, something heavier. And Jūshirō had the feeling that if he pushed the two together, they would probably kiss, and would probably do more than that or they would cut each other in half. It rustled unhappily in his stomach, stuck itself behind his teeth, and irritated his eyes.

Shunsui’s eyes trailed away from Ichigo’s face in a sharp sudden motion and landed on Jūshirō. For one moment, everything was still, halted, barricaded, whatever word would capture how utterly everything held its breath for one moment.

“J-Jūshirō?”

His name stumbled out into the open air like the final slam of a nail in a coffin. Ichigo whipped around, his reaitsu was wild and erratic, heavy and uncontrollable and Shunsui’s arms dropped to his side as they both stared at him.

“A-are you two fighting over me?”

The words slipped out, and Jūshirō’s hands clenched into fists, there were so many more questions hovering around him like a hive of insects, buzzing and hissing for his attention. Shunsui’s mouth hung open and he was staring at Jūshirō with wide eyes. Ichigo was frowning, his eyes were sad and there was something vulnerable like he was preparing to run but couldn’t.

“Jūshirō please this isn’t what it looks… okay, this is totally what it looks like but- “

“But what? You were going to talk to me? You were going to fight each to the death over who could ask for my hand? What, tell me what was going to happen?”

Jūshirō asked, he was shaking, and the words fell like a waterfall carrying with it a torrent of emotions. He felt angry, frustrated by the argument he had witnessed, it didn’t make sense and that was perhaps what fuelled it.

“No, it’s not that Jūshirō. We both just, we both feel a certain way about you and… and we weren’t certain.”

Ichigo attempted to defend his eyes were darting around as if he could find an exit and he looked small and vulnerable in a way that was unfamiliar. Breathing harshly through his nose Jūshirō rested his palm on his forehead and questioned, “What? Wasn’t certain that I would love you, both of you. We can talk about this like adults. Why were you two fighting?”

“We were jealous.”

Shunsui replied and Jūshirō turned his head from the two of them, he couldn’t look at them, couldn’t see their sad expressions. Instead, he responded, “I-I can’t deal with this right now. Talk it out like adults and then maybe we can talk. You know, it’s almost funny, I came to talk to you two about how I spoke with my zanpaktou. But I don’t want to deal with either of you right now.”

Jūshirō turned and began walking, he ignored the two of them calling his name and paused only once when he heard Shunsui say, “You should never have come! Look at this you ruined everything.”

He didn’t stay to hear anything else and broke into a quick flash-step. Jūshirō didn’t know what to do, where to go, everything blurred around him, his thoughts and his surroundings merging into one long stream of Too Much.

He stopped eventually, lost in someplace indoors that was dark and crowded with crates and bins. Jūshirō couldn’t control his breathing, couldn’t see as he squished himself in between two objects and tried to stop his body from shaking.

What had he done? He had walked away and left them to their own devices. They were probably going to kill each other, he should have stayed, should have calmed them down. He had heard what Shunsui had said and he had kept going. He was such a bad person. God, he was terrible.

Jūshirō couldn’t breathe, his breath was stuck somewhere in his stomach, clogging up his airways, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get enough air. Why? Why was he like this? He was such a burden on his friends. They were fighting over him, had he encouraged that? Why hadn’t he seen it before?

“Sōgyo”

The word echoed somewhere but Jūshirō couldn’t process it, he knew he had heard it, that it was real, but it drifted away in the face of his heaving chest. He loved them, fuck he loved both of them, the absolute idiots. This was exactly what he hadn’t wanted, he didn’t want this to tear apart their friendship. He loved them and they loved him, yet they were fighting over him. Why? He should have stopped it, should have made them sit down and talk it out. Instead, he had walked away.

Maybe they would never be friends again and Jūshirō would live the rest of his life alone. Watching from a distance.

“no”

Maybe Jūshirō would stumble out and find that they had killed each other. And it would be his fault. He was the mature one, he was the responsible one, he was the one who was supposed to balance their group out. And he had failed.

“Kotowari”

A feeling like being plunged into water surrounded Jūshirō, everything disappeared, it was calm and deep, all-consuming and embracing. He opened his eyes. Water was everywhere and in front of him were two identical children, twins. They stared at him with wide blue eyes and the words echoed in Jūshirō’s mind.

“Sōgyo no Kotowari.”

Their name, the name of his zanpaktou spirits. The twins brightened and surged forward wrapping long flowing blue sleeves around his shoulder, they whispered but the words were indistinct. One of the twins pulled back and wiped away a tear trailing down Jūshirō’s cheek, everything was still there, still heavy and hurting, but it was distant. Jūshirō curled his arms around the twins and listened to the pull of the tides around him.

X

It was the sound of footsteps that pulled Jūshirō away, like draining water from a bath, everything fell away, the calm, his inner world, his zanpaktou spirits. Until it was just Jūshirō. He blinked and opened his eyes to darkness, he had no idea where he was or even when it was.

His surroundings were filled with stacked crates that towered in the darkness, it was dusty and Jūshirō’s skin itched, the footsteps drew closer. Jūshirō took a quiet breath and tried to ground himself, he didn’t know if everything was going to work out if everything would ever be the same again.

But he wasn’t alone, Jūshirō could feel their presence, like a river running parallel to his veins. And he would try to fix things, try to talk to Ichigo and Shunsui because their friendship was important, it was almost everything. It was the space that filled waking moments or the bottom of a bowl, necessary and just as important.

He was scared, in the darkness it was easy to acknowledge the emotion, to feel it resonate and burrow itself deep in his body, to shake itself through his limbs. He was scared of what could happen, how everything could end.

With Sōgyo no Kotowari surrounding him, Jūshirō wasn’t quite so afraid though.

Golden light splashed across the dusty floor and the footsteps drew closer. Almost idly Jūshirō brushed away the remains of tears off his cheeks and attempted to smooth his hair down. He was scared but he could face this. He had to, he needed to.

The steps slowed, they dragged heavy on the floor as the halo of light bobbed and weaved before stopping in front of Jūshirō. Shunsui stood there, he looked terrible, probably as terrible as Jūshirō felt, his hair was a mess that spilt untamed across his shoulders, his eyes were watery and tired, he seemed fragile as if the wind might scatter him into pieces.

“Jūshirō?”

His name whispered carefully, softly, with a thousand meanings that Jūshirō couldn’t focus on. The light filtered into the small space and chased away the lingering shadow of fear and Jūshirō nodded but remained silent, neutral, waiting. He needed to fix things, but so too did Ichigo and Shunsui.

Shunsui sunk to his knees, his lamp resting on the floor, as Shunsui tipped his body forward, prostrated himself on the ground in front of Jūshirō and said, “I’m sorry. I was being inconsiderate of your feelings, and Ichigo’s. I was jealous of both of you and I was being a stupid cowardly idiot. I don’t care if you don’t want to talk anymore, or if you never want to see me again, that’s a lie I would be devastated but it would be your right. I just want you to know how sorry I am.”

Silence. It lingered and filled the space between them as Jūshirō attempted to process Shunsui’s apology and his own reaction. Did he mean it? Of course, it rang with truth, with something real, it was Shunsui, he didn’t do apologies like this unless he meant it. Shunsui felt horrible, just as much if not more than Jūshirō did and something in that was comforting. More so, than the promise to avoid him if he wished.

It all rushed together and Jūshirō leaned forward and lifted Shunsui’s head to look into his eyes. In the glow of the lantern, his eyes were like liquid, and it called to mind nights curled together under starlight, or training in the dojo late at night.

“It’s okay. Well, it’s not right now but it could be. We’re all idiots sometimes. But you need to fix this, we all do. Because both of you are my friends.”

Jūshirō replied and the words were a rush and were laughter and breathless exhaustion with everything. Shunsui’s eyes crinkled and he surged forward to wrap his arms around Jūshirō, it was warm and comfortable, he could smell Shunsui, that familiar hint of sake and sakura.

“I’m so sorry Jūshirō, you’re right I’m the biggest idiot. I’m so lucky to have you as a friend you know, you’re the best of us.”

Shunsui murmured and rambled all at once into his shoulder and Jūshirō couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped him as he ran a hand slowly through the tangled mess of Shunsui’s hair. After a moment, Shunsui pulled back, he stared into Jūshirō’s eyes, the air around them was different, charged with tension and all Jūshirō could see was Shunsui bathed in golden light.

“I love you.”

The words that Jūshirō had been waiting to hear, had wanted to hear from Shunsui, had wanted to say himself. Those three words fell between the two of them with no grace, with a suddenness that took away his breath.

Jūshirō’s hands wrapped around Shunsui’s jaw and he leaned forward. It was impulsive and it was sloppy, but it felt right. Their lips pressed together, it was awkward for a moment before they both remembered how to kiss and Shunsui tilted his head, Jūshirō’s fingers trailed over familiar stubble as Shunsui kissed him. It was hot and he could barely breathe, everything was gathered up in his chest and light was flashing behind his eyes.

They pulled apart gasping for breath, the air was hot between them and Jūshirō felt light-headed, dizzy like he could laugh and never stop. Shunsui leaned forward his eyes practically twinkling, and he grinned all sultry and replied, “I suppose this means you love me too?”

Jūshirō swatted his friend but when Shunsui leaned forward Jūshirō placed his hands between the two of them. It felt right. But not complete and Jūshirō knew with an instinctive ease what was missing.

“Ichigo.”

He said and Shunsui flinched back his brows furrowed, his eyes flickered shut, and his mouth slackened as he shook his head and whispered, “God, how could I? I’m such a horrible friend. Do you know what I said to him? Said I wished he had never come. And I came to you and left him alone.”

Jūshirō frowned, he couldn’t imagine how Ichigo was feeling, he needed people, and to be told by someone he trusted that they wished he had never existed in their lives? He was probably devastated. Jūshirō didn’t know how Ichigo reacted to these situations, he could be doing anything. Fighting? Running? Panicking? Anything.

“Well then we need to find him so you, and I can apologize.”

Jūshirō replied softly settling his hands on Shunsui’s arms and catching his eyes in the flickering light. He nodded, it was accompanied by a sombre expression but Jūshirō couldn’t focus on Shunsui’s self-loathing. They needed to find Ichigo then they could all have a group discussion about communication and trust.

Rolling to his feet as his spine popped Jūshirō winced and extended his hand, Shunsui looked up and it hung between the two of them for a moment. Then he grasped Jūshirō’s hand and he pulled him to his feet along with the lantern.

“Do you know the way to the exit? Or even where we are?”

“One of the storage areas for supplies for the school and the nearby district. Follow me.”

Shunsui replied and with a nod entered the maze of towering boxes. Jūshirō nodded and focused on his reaitsu, everything felt more, more grounded, more powerful, more controlled. He spread his sense outwards searching for any sign of Ichigo as they neared the exit of the building.

Ichigo’s reaitsu was wild and very much alive, it was like a signal flare in pitch darkness radiating outwards for miles. The air outside the building was cool and night had descended in the interim casting everything in dusty shades of itself.

Jūshirō turned to Shunsui and grasped his arms, he stared into his eyes and tried to convey everything. How Ichigo could potentially be dangerous or vulnerable, they needed to proceed with caution. He nodded and they broke into a quick flash-step the earth beneath them was a blur, like freshly turned soil everything was indistinct and as they travelled Jūshirō could feel the weight of everything that had happened weighing on him.

There was a dirt path, likely leading to an area where the villagers could harvest wild plants, it ended in a clearing bracketed by trees, behind them a field stretched out, but in front of them stood Ichigo. Perhaps stood wasn’t the correct word.

The air roared around them and Ichigo’s reaitsu was tangible, a deep black threaded with red or blue rising like a miasma around him; he had never seen anything like it. He was swaying on his feet and before their eyes, he dropped to his knees, his zanpaktou rested silently beside him and it sent warning bells flaring through his mind.

Jūshirō took a small step forward and entered the clearing, instantly Ichigo’s reaitsu slammed into him, it was all surrounding and heavy, it was suffocating the air from his lungs. Jūshirō pulled his reaitsu around himself and took another step forward. Shunsui followed him.

Ichigo didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge their presence at all. Jūshirō frowned and pushed forward, it was like wading through the rapids of a stream, or through a field of stone, and every step felt as if it took an hour. Jūshirō was panting as he sunk to his knees in front of Ichigo, Shunsui collapsed beside him and they both stared at their friend.

Ichigo’s eyes were shining pricks of light seeping through his eyelids, there were tears trailing down his cheeks, and his hands were clenched into fists so tight that blood trailed sluggishly from them. His breath was faint and barely there as his hair whipped around his head and his reaitsu curled around him. He looked untouchable, like something from a myth.

“Ichigo?”

Jūshirō called out, every line in his body tense, his spirits were quiet, but he could feel their presence now. Ichigo’s body jolted slightly every part of him seemed to stiffen before it relaxed into a boneless slump, his reaitsu died down slightly as he blinked his eyes and the glow faded.

He stared at Jūshirō without really seeing him, those brown eyes were vague and it unsettled Jūshirō more than the reaitsu around them. He said his name once again but didn’t touch Ichigo, instead, he let his reaitsu bloom around him like a beacon and stared at his friend.

Ichigo blinked again and his gaze swam slightly into focus, he raised his hand as if to touch Jūshirō and in an almost inaudible tone whispered, “Is this a dream? Jūshirō?”

“You’re with us Ichigo, this isn’t a dream we’re here, we’re real.”

The affirmation twisted something in Ichigo’s expression, and his gaze slid from Jūshirō to Shunsui with a furrow of his brows. He tilted his head and the tears trailing down his cheeks increased, and his body shuddered in the chill of the night.

“Why are you here?”

The words were whispered but sharp as he leaned away from them, his expression was confused but there was something else beneath it. Dark and sharp, so very sharp. Shunsui slumped, he folded into himself and for a moment everything was still.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Ichigo. I was an idiot a complete and utter idiot. I should never have said that. I’m so glad I met you, you changed both of our lives for the better. You provide a challenge for us, you help us grow, you listen to me when I ramble, you discuss philosophy or anything else with Jūshirō. You made our lives better and I’m sorry I was an idiot because I let jealousy get in the way.”

Ichigo tilted his head, his hands tightened before they released and searched for his zanpaktou. For one terrible moment, Jūshirō was certain Ichigo was going to kill Shunsui and he felt powerless as if he would be forced to watch.

Ichigo stopped searching for his zanpaktou and turned his head away for a long moment and said, “Dammit what have the two of you done to me?”

He slumped forward and Shunsui leaned forward at the same time and wrapped his arms around Ichigo as he sobbed, his whole body shuddered, and each cry broke into Jūshirō’s head as he leaned forward and ran his fingers gently through Ichigo’s hair.

“I’m sorry that I abandoned you two. I should have stayed so we could talk instead of letting everything fall apart.”

Jūshirō said to the night air and watched as Shunsui mumbled something to Ichigo and they both laughed, a burst of delirious heady laughter and turned to face Jūshirō. Ichigo ran a hand lightly over Jūshirō’s cheek and said, “You don’t need to apologize Ju. We’re the idiots who’re in love with you and can’t deal with it.”

He pressed his fingers over the tears on Ichigo’s cheeks and replied, “You also love each other dorks.”

Ichigo grinned, a trembling sort of grin, and nodded. Shunsui leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Ichigo’s cheek, who whipped his head around shock splaying out across his features. Shunsui chuckled and pressed a kiss to Ichigo’s nose as he murmured, “We’re such blind idiots huh?”

“I’ve never been good at love.”

Ichigo agreed and slotted their lips together his hands reaching up to thread themselves through Shunsui’s hair. Jūshirō blushed at the sight of them kissing, heat flushing through his body as the two’s hands roamed over each other.

A moment later, Ichigo pulled away and turned to Jūshirō, he rested his hands lightly on his jaw and questioned, “This is alright?”

Jūshirō grinned and pressed their lips together. Shunsui was slow, languid, he took his time and every movement felt pre-ordained, Ichigo kissed like he couldn’t get enough like he was fire consuming everything that you could offer. They broke apart panting, a string of saliva stretched between the two of them and Ichigo leaned in to press another kiss to his lips with a grin, suddenly, Ichigo was so very alive, like a firecracker had lit up somewhere inside him.

“Love you, both of you.”

Jūshirō breathed out as Shunsui leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, Shunsui laughed, the sound rumbled in his chest and sent heat flushing through his chest as he repeated those three words. Ichigo’s callused fingers were warm on his cheek as he looked at both of them and said, “Love you too.”

Later they laid panting in the grass curled over one another, the air was chill around them but coiled together everything was warm. Jūshirō curled his head into Ichigo’s chest, felt Shunsui’s arm thrown over his hip and hummed in contentment. Everything was okay. They needed to talk to each other, needed to sort out what they were. But for now, in the warmth of each other, he knew they loved each and that was enough.

X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, there will probably be about two more chapters after this which will cover everything until graduation (or thereabout). Originally I was going to write an explicit scene, but I decided against it, I might write it later though. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter it was really fun to write everything (but also emotionally draining). Reviews/comments are always appreciated, till next time!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, we are back. Thanks to everyone who reviewed/commented on the last chapter, it really means a lot! Read on and enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo

X

Jūshirō ran his hand through his hair. Again. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and wondered if he looked okay. Or even decent. There was a hoard of nerves that had taken up space somewhere inside his brain and suddenly nothing looked perfect and he felt like a complete and utter mess. It wasn't the best feeling. Logically, Jūshirō knew there was no reason to be nervous, they had gone out to the local restaurant or teahouse a hundred times.

It was probably the fact that the previous one hundred times had not been a date. Or maybe they had been, but not a Date. Still, Jūshirō knew there was nothing to be nervous about, they were already together. Regardless, he stared at his reflection and the sad pout there with a sigh as he brushed his fingers through his hair once more. He had chosen to wear the green kimono, it was pale and reminded him slightly of the rind of a melon, it wasn't overly ornate, but it was comfortable, it wasn't tight around his chest, and he liked the way it flowed when he walked, and that was what was important.

Beneath the anxiety about how everything would go, Jūshirō was excited, to see how his boyfriends would look, to eat dinner with them, to get outside the academy for a bit. It felt right and the anticipation threaded itself through his fingers just as easily so that his gaze kept flicking towards the door unceasingly.

Turning away from the mirror Jūshirō peered at his desk and shuffled aside a roll of paper filled with cramped writing and a book Jūshirō had borrowed from the library for their recent research assignment. Sighing Jūshirō frowned and tilted his head trying to recall where he had left it after the Nobel gala the month before, he had been exhausted by the end of it and supporting Shunsui on one arm.

It seemed strange that a month ago they had all just been friends unaware or rather in denial of their feelings for each other. So much had changed, all in the span of a week and everything was still new and a tiny bit unsteady, still a little bit unsure.

With a triumphant grin Jūshirō's fingers shuffled aside a collection of letters from his mother and pulled out the hair pins, they were simple a dark wood with carvings of dragons curling along the sides. Ichigo had gifted them to him for his birthday some months ago (Shunsui had given him sake, of course), gazing down at the pins Jūshirō traced his finger carefully over the wood for a moment before he turned towards the mirror and twirled his hair up and slid the pins in.

A knock on the door interrupted the silence just as Jūshirō turned from the mirror, trying to push the grin off his lips Jūshirō slid the door open. Shunsui stood on the other side of the door, his hair curled around his shoulders and he was wearing a kimono Jūshirō hadn't seen before, it was a deep red, that in the half-light appeared almost burgundy or purple.

"Ready to go Ju?"

Shunsui grinned up at him, that grin that sent heat curling through his stomach and up into his cheeks with ease. Weakly Jūshirō nodded before he shook away the dazed admiration of his boyfriend and smiled at Shunsui as he replied, "Yes. You look nice. Where's Ichigo?"

"He's waiting outside, didn't want to draw more attention, I think he also wanted to panic alone for a few minutes."

Jūshirō shook his head at Shunsui's words and swatted him on the arm even as he stepped outside and slid the door shut with a click that seemed loud in the empty silence of the evening. Shunsui grinned unrepentantly and looped his arm through Jūshirō's happily guiding him out of the dorm building. For a moment, Jūshirō worried that other students might see them, might comment or make assumptions.

He reminded himself that the whole school already knew, and as with his birth gender, the Gotei 13 couldn't afford to discriminate on that level, not with the recent surge of hollow attacks on the districts. Shunsui tucked Jūshirō closer to his body as if sensing his thoughts, he was warm in the cool clip of spring and Jūshirō almost regretted not bringing a scarf.

Ichigo was leaning against one of the gates, smoke billowed around his face in ever elusive patterns that caught against the brightness of his hair. In the dark of the evening, he looked otherworldly as if he wasn't quite supposed to be there.

His head turned at their footsteps and Ichigo grinned pulling the kizeru away from his lips, Jūshirō wasn't aware that Ichigo had one but then again it wasn't surprising. Close to Ichigo, he could see that his partner was wearing a blue kimono that wasn't quite blue, it was dark and almost played tricks on the eyes in the pale glow of the oil lamps nearby.

Ichigo pressed a kiss to his cheek and with a small smile said, "You look lovely Ju."

"As do you Ichigo."

Jūshirō replied and pressed himself closer to Ichigo unashamedly for he was also a source of heat. Shunsui pouted and with crocodile tears asked, "What about me?"

"I suppose you look passable."

Ichigo replied staring at Shunsui down the bridge of his nose with a raised brow, he looked like nobility, like one of the members of the Shiba clan in that moment. It made Jūshirō wonder. Shunsui pouted and turned to Jūshirō with wide eyes and a pointed an accusing finger at Ichigo as he said, "Do you hear what he said to me? Jūshirō tell Ichigo to stop being so mean."

Jūshirō leaned over and patted Shunsui on the cheek with a pleasant, "Yes dear."

Ichigo's laughter filled the space between them, it was a catching sort of laughter, and soon they were all giggling helplessly outside the gates of the Academy. After a moment, through whistling breaths, Ichigo said, "We should probably get going."

Jūshirō nodded and attempted to catch his breath and stay standing as Shunsui leaned against him his face flushed as he swayed slightly on his feet before straightening with a nod. Together they followed the path that led to the nearby districts at a casual pace. They spoke of everything and nothing, of the weather and how Ichigo always hated the spring because of the rain, of how Shunsui loved the fall with the festivals and the summer heat, Jūshirō liked the winter and the blanket of stillness it brought, the quiet of sitting by a fire and watching the world around you become hidden.

The restaurant was a building settled on a street corner as if it had always been there as if at the same moment Soul Society had sprung into existence so too had the restaurant. It was squat bricks and bamboo panelling with a sign with faded red paint that cheerily declared the restaurant as The Red Panda. They slipped into the building amidst the low buzz of conversation, as Ichigo spoke to the hostess Jūshirō gazed out over the sea of people.

It wasn't overly busy, but neither was it empty. Jūshirō smiled recalling how Ichigo and Shunsui sprung the date on him with hopeful eyes and an apology beneath the words. How was he supposed to say no to that?

Their waitress led them through the maze of tables and haphazard limbs to a small booth at the back, the buzz of conversation around them was dull there and in the light of the lamps above everything was golden.

"Can you believe we're graduating in a few months?"

Shunsui said with a tilt of his head as he stared at the menu with one hand stroking the stubble lining his jaw. It was true. The thought was surprising it felt like only a month since they had first started at the academy since Ichigo had whirled into their lives. Soon they would be Shinigami.

Ichigo stared balefully at Shunsui and replied, "Don't remind me. We'll be back at the bottom of the food chain even if we're offered seated positions from the beginning. Fetching tea and so, so much paperwork."

"It's not all bad Ichigo."

Jūshirō consoled his boyfriend patting his arm where he rested his head against the table. One brown eye peered through the mess of bangs Ichigo refused (couldn't) tame and squinted sceptically.

"He's right."

Shunsui added with a shrug that failed to hide the sour expression on his face. Ichigo lifted his head from the table and as their waitress settled their drinks on the table responded, "That's rich coming from you."

Jūshirō nodded his head in thanks and attempted to muffle a smile into his sleeve. Taking a cautious sip of the sake, Jūshirō moaned happily at the heat that unfolded in his stomach and seeped through the clay to his fingers.

When he opened his eyes, his partners were both staring and Jūshirō grinned at their expressions and took another sip of his sake peering at the two of them over his cup. Ichigo rubbed a hand over his features and mumbled, "That's just not fair."

"Agreed."

Shunsui said with a sage nod as their waitress returned to take their orders. She had a pleasant voice and a simple countenance but had the sort of charisma that was helpful in her line of work. After their orders were placed, she whisked away with their menus in hand leaving the three of them alone once more.

"You know, Ichigo still needs to meet our parents."

Shunsui commented in a wry tone that only ever meant one thing. Ichigo blanched, the colour drained away from his face and his eyes whipped between the two of them before he weakly replied, "Do I have to? I mean it's not a big deal, right?"

Jūshirō considered it, their parents would probably find out about their relationship soon, whether through local gossip or their own carelessness. It was probably better to introduce Ichigo when there were no rumours between them.

He said as much to Ichigo who frowned but nodded looking resigned. His expression softened slightly, and he added with distant eyes, "At least you'll never have to meet my dad. He was so embarrassing and weird."

"Really?"

Shunsui questioned from around a sip of sake, Ichigo laughed it was short and maybe a bit bitter with grief as he nodded. His fingers tightened around his sake cup and with an exhale they loosened, and he replied, "Yeah, he-he used to try and drop-kick me anytime I entered our home. To train my instincts or something."

Ichigo shrugged and took a sip of sake as if to hide the flash of hurt that passed quick as lightning over his features. Shunsui and Jūshirō traded a knowing glance and didn't comment on how Ichigo's father sounded exactly like a Shiba.

Jūshirō laced his hand over Ichigo's and smiled at his partner, Shunsui leaned his head against Ichigo's and for a moment everything was warm in the glow of the lamps with the dull hush of conversations in the background.

The waitress returned, she was smiling as she settled their plates in front of them and with a bow disappeared. It was only with the food in front of him that Jūshirō realised how hungry he was, Shunsui and Ichigo appeared equally ravenous and for a little while, there was silence between them as they ate.

It was delicious, a vibrant burst of spices with subtle undertones that was cooked masterfully. Jūshirō was a very happy man. When he glanced up Ichigo and Shunsui were equally enthralled and Jūshirō commented, "This was a good choice."

"I heard about it from Himura."

"Of course, you did."

Ichigo replied with a roll of his eyes that failed to hide the smile on his lips as he took a bite of rice. Shunsui scoffed offended and Jūshirō grinned, it was a well-known secret that Himura liked to cook, and more so that he liked to try out the local cuisine.

Eventually, their food was finished and Jūshirō pushed his plate slightly across the table and sighed at the feeling of being full, warm, and in the company of Ichigo and Shunsui. Shunsui was trailing his fingers along the side of his sake cup and in the glow of the lights his eyes were dark, two circles staring out at the world. Ichigo was smiling, it was the small sort of smile that wasn't quite meant for the rest of the world for it was uncontained happiness in its finest.

"Do you ever think about how short life is?"

Shunsui questioned quietly, his eyes were staring out at the world around them and he took a sip of his sake with the same gaze. Jūshirō tilted his head to consider the question even as Ichigo sighed, a heavy sigh and nodded, his eyes were changed and the smile was gone as he added, "Always."

"That's why you have to take every moment, every chance offered to you."

Jūshirō replied and stared at the both of them seated across from him. His life had been fragile, was fragile, one day he might collapse and not get up again. Jūshirō knew how to live with death at one's doorstep and he knew it was everything in between and outside that mattered.

Shunsui tilted his cup in the air for a toast with a nod, Ichigo stared for a long moment before his lips curved ever so slightly and he lifted his own glass. Letting a smile slip across his own features Jūshirō raised his glass. To life.

X

The air was warm, the kind that was humid with the first breath of spring but still slightly chill, and everything was soft with sunlight and saturated in hues of green, the air filled itself with the faint hum of nature as the leaves whispered in the wake of the wind above them. Jūshirō tilted his head in Shunsui's lap, felt his calloused fingers card through his hair as they watched Ichigo move like liquid from one move to the next through the small clearing, his zanpaktou caught the light and it was easy to see a battle behind each of his movements.

The doors to the dojo were open behind them but it was empty in the laziness of the afternoon and it felt as if they were separated from the rest of the world by an invisible barrier like the moment was separated from time floating free. It was just the three of them.

Shunsui chuckled, the sound rumbled through the air and into Jūshirō's chest unconsciously quirking a smile onto his face as he peered up at his partner through curly strands of brown hair. Shunsui grinned down at him, his eyes were bright and adoring as he pressed a kiss to Jūshirō's forehead and said, "I was just recalling that day at the lake."

"I suppose it was an awakening of many kinds, for all of us."

Jūshirō commented wryly trailing his fingers over the rough stubble lining Shunsui's jaw that rubbed against his cheeks whenever they kissed and left his face red from more than just blush. Shunsui nodded his gaze flickering to Ichigo as he thrust his blade behind him, and added, "All our friends probably knew and organized the whole thing in an attempt to get us together."

"Probably. You know how Megumi likes to play matchmaker."

Jūshirō replied as he shifted his head on Shunsui's lap with a knowing grin. Shunsui swatted his head with a huff of laughter and a petulant glare before he resumed running his fingers through the white hair covering his head in an unruly mop.

It had certainly been interesting to see everyone's reactions in the week after everything. After nights curled together with sake warm on their breath and fire in their chests as they promised to each other. It had been all-knowing and smug grins as the others asked pointed questions with wide grins and knowing eyes that did little to hide the fact that the whole school had known about their crushes on each other long before they themselves had realised. Jūshirō was certain he had seen more than a few coins trading hands.

He wasn't certain if that amused him or annoyed him. Shunsui certainly seemed happy to have made some money, somehow.

Ichigo's quick movements drew to a halt and his panting filled the air as his zanpaktou dropped to rest at his side, the blade looked almost covered in shadows where it rested against his leg; they didn't mention it. Ichigo tipped his head back, his orange hair following the movement in an arc and catching like fire in the light, highlighting the sweat beaded across his forehead and down his chest.

They both stared openly and unabashed at Ichigo, who was pretty. Very pretty. All tanned skin in the sunlight, warm brown eyes, orange hair, the scars that crossed his shoulders in pale white lines that looked like kisses from the stars, the patches of skin that were angry and inflamed years after the injury, the broad chest and narrowed hips, his large hands. Jūshirō would happily say that Ichigo was very pretty and that he was very much theirs.

Shunsui purred low in his chest and Jūshirō gazed up at his partner and saw the heat in his eyes, the sight didn't arouse the same jealousy it once had. Granted a part of Jūshirō wanted to see the same expression on Shunsui's face because of him. But Ichigo was theirs and that made it easy to accept.

It helped that Shunsui was also very pretty, in a different way from Ichigo. Where Ichigo was sharp lines and angles, bright as the sun and just as burning, Shunsui was the night itself blanketing everything. His deep voice, the curls of his hair as they spilt around his face, the stubble lining his jaw, the wine-dark sea of his eyes, the corded muscle that flexed with each movement with ease.

Ichigo padded over, running a hand through the sweat-slicked strands of his hair he grinned at the two of them, it was a soft grin that Jūshirō hadn't seen before and it was something wonderful. And maybe a bit teasing.

He plopped down onto the veranda with a sigh and happily caught the rag Shunsui threw at his head and wiped the sweat off his brow. He tucked himself close, folding beside Shunsui and tucking Jūshirō's legs over his own with a happy sigh.

"I remember once I was with a friend of mine," Ichigo began in that wistful tone that did little to hide old grief. But he had told them, shared a little of a secret that weighed across Ichigo's shoulders like the world itself. He wasn't quite of this time. Ichigo had refrained from specifying which time, only that there had been a battle, a war great and terrible and all-consuming. The knowledge had been shocking, hard to believe in all of its impossibility, but Jūshirō supposed it wasn't the strangest thing.

They didn't pry (much) even if there were so many questions about the future. It was Ichigo's burden and he chose what and when to tell them. The time continuum was sort of important after all.

"We would train together sometimes, and she was shorter than me, but she always turned it into an advantage. It was hot one day, like real true summer heat and I got so flustered because she took the top of her shihakusho off, her chest was bound, but I was younger then. She got so offended, I'm not sure why she had a temper, that's probably why we got along so well. But she coated the whole thing in ice so I would stop staring. We couldn't keep sparing after that."

Ichigo finished with a grin and rested his head on Shunsui's shoulder with a sigh that flicked his curls into the air. Jūshirō curled his hand around Ichigo's and let a smile settle into place. There had been a time when Ichigo had a family, had friends, but they all knew without him telling them that they were all gone. But Jūshirō and Shunsui were there and they wouldn't abandon Ichigo.

A comfortable silence descended over the three of them. Well silence wasn't quite the right word, the world around them was filled with the contrasting rhythm of their breathing, the breeze gossiped with the leaves on the trees, the tiny insects that buzzed about filled the air with their own symphony, and Jūshirō's thoughts idle and as fleeting as summer filled the space.

But it was a sort of silence, nonetheless. And Jūshirō felt comfortable, the kind where time would pass languid and thoughtlessly and every movement every second was savoured and then cast away. It was nice.

"You still have to show us your Shikai Ju."

Shunsui stated idly running his fingers through Jūshirō's hair and feathering lightly over his eyelids. Ichigo hummed in agreement peering down at him through thick eyelashes accompanied with an expression that was practically saturated in warmth and affection.

"So does Ichi. And you still have to discover yours, Shu."

Jūshirō responded mildly pressing a kiss to the fingers wandering over his features and tossing a smile at Ichigo equally full of as much love as he could muster. Shunsui coughed, it was a very suspicious cough and Jūshirō rolled his eyes up to face Shunsui at the same moment Ichigo turned his head with one raised brow.

"Do you have something to tell us?"

Ichigo questioned and Shunsui huffed out a nervous peal of laughter before he slumped slightly with a grin and said, "I may or may not have discovered my Shikai in a bout of insomnia a night or so ago."

"Shu!"

Jūshirō cried out at his partner's antics, adding a flick on the arm for good measure as Ichigo first glared, the very fearsome glare before he softened and shook his head with an exasperated roll of his eyes.

"At least we can do show and tell now."

Shunsui added with a shrug and a grin that tilted at the corners and didn't at all hide how he was very excited to show off his Shikai. Jūshirō considered it for a moment, he had practised a bit with his Shikai, and he felt it was right (and safe) to show his boyfriends. He nodded and then it was only Ichigo who sported a conflicted expression, one that furrowed his brow and trailed his fingers over the hilt of his zanpaktou.

They knew he had his Shikai and probably his Bankai. But that wasn't the reason for hesitance and Jūshirō wasn't certain there was one solid reason, as with anything concerning Ichigo.

"Alright, I'll show you but give me some time I have to be careful with how much power I output."

Ichigo finally agreed with a tilt of his head and a small smile that was almost unaware of its own existence. Shunsui grinned and pumped his fists in the air and Jūshirō couldn't help but smile as well even as he muffled his laughter into his sleeve and said, "Well it looks like you've volunteered to go first Shu."

Shunsui's head whipped around and he pouted at Jūshirō with wide eyes and replied, "Aw but I wanted to see your Shikai first."

Jūshirō raised an eyebrow and stared at Shunsui till he slumped in defeat and nodded; his eyes were glimmering with excitement beneath the dramatic mantle. Shifting upwards to free Shunsui, who sauntered out into the clearing, Jūshirō watched as he drew his zanpaktou and held it in front of him.

"Flower Wind Rage and Flower God Roar, Heavenly Wind Rage and Heavenly Demon Sneer Katen Kyōkotsu!"

Reaitsu filled the air, potent and sharp like the burn of alcohol as it swirled around Shunsui and the zanpaktou in his hands split into two blades. They were long with a curved end and had hollowed sections on the inside of the blade, at the pommels two long red tassels dangled. Jūshirō's eyes widened in surprise and one hand drifted to cover his mouth as he stared at the blades that were everything Shunsui. Elegant and dynamic, wild, and dark.

Even Ichigo, amidst his concentrated focus, blinked at the dual blades and smiled with something like pride. Shunsui grinned and let the blades catch the light of the sun above them, his reaitsu was all around them like a garden blooming with flowers as he said, "I still haven't figured out everything, or really anything. But what do you think?"

"They're beautiful Shu."

"They suit you."

Ichigo added with a gentle incline of his head even as his fingers tightened over the hilt of his zanpaktou and his breath came out in one long exhale. Jūshirō sparred his partner a concerned glance but Ichigo waved it off with a shake of his head.

Shunsui smiled and in the light he was radiant.

"Now it's your turn Ju," Shunsui replied as he pressed the blades together and in another spike of reaitsu they were sealed, he glanced up and his eyes grinned and his brows waggled when he added, "I want to see your Shikai."

Jūshirō blushed and rolled his eyes as he rose to his feet, swaying slightly as his centre of gravity reoriented itself. Rolling his shoulders and drawing his zanpaktou as Shunsui swaggered past with a wink to settle beside Ichigo, Jūshirō paused in the centre of the clearing.

He pulled his reaitsu around him, in waves and tides slowly building as he held his zanpaktou in front of him and called out, "All Waves, Rise now and Become my Shield, Lightning, Strike now and Become my Blade Sōgyo no Kotowari."

His zanpaktou split into two familiar hilts the red rope extended between the two blades and the five silver charms weighted themselves between his hands in a sense that was quickly becoming familiar. Jūshirō blinked and opened his eyes he could hear his zanpaktou giggling in the back of his mind, could almost feel their glee at being seen.

Shunsui was staring his mouth hung open and he kept attempting to close it leaving Jūshirō with the impression of a fish. He grinned, proud that his partners could see his Shikai, could be the first to see it. Ichigo glanced up and stared at his zanpaktou for a long moment before he smiled and said, "Congratulations."

"No offence Ichigo but if you don't have a dual zanpaktou I'm going to be slightly disappointed now."

Shunsui added casting his gaze between Ichigo and Jūshirō with wide eyes. Jūshirō laughed and shook his head at Shunsui's lack of tact (he could be tactful when he wanted to) and pressed his zanpaktou together in between one breath and the next, it was almost like pouring a bucket of water into a bottle.

Settling slightly in the sunlight Jūshirō inhaled and with a blink walked over to the veranda and curled himself against Shunsui, whose grin he could feel against his hair. Ichigo trailed his hand over his zanpaktou and grinned at the two of them as he replied, "You're in luck Shu."

And rose to his feet striding confidently to stand in front of them he held his zanpaktou against his arms and with an inhale that settled the tense line of his shoulders he called out, "Slay Zangetsu."

Reiatsu rose like a fog in a thick miasma around Ichigo, it was like that night, but wild and threaded through with bright streaks of blue with little red, it surrounded Ichigo, consumed him. The reaitsu faded a moment later and Ichigo stood with two blades in his hand, both were living darkness and yet vastly different. In his left hand, he held a blade the size of a knife and in the other a sword with a hollowed-out portion in the centre.

Ichigo smiled but it was tight and Jūshirō could almost sense the vast sea of reaitsu being held back. After a moment Ichigo exhaled and his blade was sealed once more, he swayed for a moment before he steadied himself and smiled at them.

"Well, that's three for three then."

Ichigo added as he settled beside Jūshirō and rubbed his fingers over his hand and tilted his head as if to hide the smile on his face. Shunsui nodded his lips stretching across his face as he replied nobly with a tilt of his head, "Yes, together we shall be unstoppable."

Jūshirō laughed, the sound easy and pulling at his lungs as he shook his head and swatted at Shunsui's arms. In retaliation, he tugged at a lock of Jūshirō's hair only to yelp in surprise as Ichigo leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips.

The world outside continued to flow but for now, it was just the three of them and Jūshirō couldn't be happier.

X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I tried to focus on the development of their relationship which was pretty fun to write. I have two more chapters planned for this part by the way. Reviews/comments are always appreciated!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, we are back with another chapter. This is the second last chapter in this part, it’s kind of hard to believe we’ve come so far. One reviewer asked where Ichigo lives, so I thought I’d share in case anyone was wondering. He lives in the nearby Rungokai districts with a family he saved from Hollows, they have a few children that Ichigo absolutely adores and he helps out around the house. I didn’t want to write the typical Shiba adoption so, that’s what happened. Thanks to everyone who commented, read on and enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo

X

They waited clustered together, unsure and hesitant. There was none of the confidence from their last visit, and Jūshirō felt tense as if every line of his body had solidified into stone. His eyes swept around the empty hallway and landed on his partners. Shunsui was leaning against a wall, his arms crossed nonchalantly in front of his chest as he whistled an idle tune. It couldn’t fool Jūshirō and he could see the way Shunsui’s fingers were tight where they grasped his sleeves and the way his eyes constantly flickered to the door and away. Ichigo was scowling, that wicked scowl that was far too harsh for his face, and he paced like a caged animal stalking back and forth in a way that did little to hide his own anxiety.

Jūshirō sighed and tipped his head back, from there he could see the simple lines of the ceiling, the grains of wood that ran parallel to each other. He was tired. It was far too early to have been summoned to the Soutaicho’s office.

He had just clambered out from beneath Ichigo’s clingy arms and Shunsui’s sprawled mess of limbs when the knock had sounded. It had been a bleary minute trying to comprehend the Shinigami’s word while also managing to cover the entirety of the doorway. But the message had eventually been received and now they were waiting in front of the Soutaicho’s office with no detectable cause.

They hadn’t even pulled a prank in the last few weeks, they had been too wrapped up in sorting everything out. There had been planning sure, but that wasn’t punishable in the slightest. So, they had nothing, no idea why they had been summoned so early and it rubbed uneasily at all of them, like when one forgets something and can’t recall what.

Jūshirō wondered if the Soutaicho knew about their relationship. They hadn’t kept it secret, but they hadn’t been overly exuberant about it. Still, the thought persisted as Jūshirō tilted his head away from the ceiling to stare at boyfriends. It wasn’t like the Soutaicho was going to forbid their relationship or anything so dramatic, there were other same-sex couples in the academy and as far as Jūshirō knew there was no introductory meeting with the Soutaicho about safe sex.

The thought brought a flurry of amusement as Jūshirō pictured the Soutaicho talking to a young couple about it, staring down at them from beneath his bushy brows and lecturing with the same heavy tone he used when disciplining a student. He snorted and quickly covered his mouth, but his partners had already noticed and Shunsui was staring at Jūshirō with a raised brow while Ichigo had stopped pacing and tilted his head in a move that shouldn’t have been so adorable.

Jūshirō flapped his hand in the universal symbol of later and shook his head with a small grin he couldn’t quite erase. Shunsui grinned back all bright and enthusiastic like a puppy (it shouldn’t have been as endearing as it was) and nodded. Ichigo rolled his eyes but it failed to hide how fond he was as he leaned against the opposite wall.

The large doors to the Soutaicho’s office slid open in one gliding movement spilling sunlight into the dim hallway. They straightened and moved to stand in front of the door quietly peering at each other like uncertain children.

“Come in you three.”

The Soutaicho’s deep voice filtered into the hallway and Jūshirō muffled a sharp jump at the sudden noise. Sharing a final look of courage between them as one they entered the Soutaicho’s office.

The man was sitting at his desk, signing pieces of paper with an easy movement and adding them to a frighteningly large stack that towered beside him. He looked far to awake for the early morning and a mug of tea lazily coiled steam through the air. The faint sunlight of spring filtered through the window and caught on the varnished wood of the office casting everything in a golden light.

They eased themselves quietly into the three chairs placed in front of the desk, the room was silent except for the scratch of his brush against paper and the whisper of their breathing. They waited. It was an agonizing sort of wait, to not know what one is waiting for is far more terrible than knowing. For if one knows they can accept it. But they waited and were unsure, it felt like a punishment, like they were waiting for discipline.

After what could have been minutes or an hour the Soutaicho set his brush down and steepled his fingers in front of his chest on his desk. His dark eyes peered at each of them in turn and they were intangible, they weren’t angry, but that was all Jūshirō could ascertain as they waited for an answer.

“It was reported to me yesterday by one of my subordinates passing through the academy that he had seen three students with dual bladed zanpaktou.”

The Soutaicho began and the words fell like a plunge into icy water stealing away Jūshirō’s breath and leaving him wide-eyed and stiff. The words rang like alarm bells through Jūshirō’s mind and desperately he tried to recall if any of the laws they had studied mentioned the illegality of a dual bladed zanpaktou. Nothing mentioned a dual bladed zanpaktou though. Because they hadn’t existed before they discovered their zanpaktou.

They waited in silence unsure of what the Soutaicho wanted, affirmation? Denial? Jūshirō felt ashamed that someone had seen them yesterday, they had been certain the area was abandoned but none of them had thought to check. And so here they were. It would have been inevitable that someone would have found out eventually, but it still rankled that they had all been so careless.

“The Shinigami reported that it was almost certainly the academy’s up and coming prodigies due to the colour of their hair.”

The Soutaicho added as if they didn’t all already know that the Soutaicho knew it was the three of them. Jūshirō peered at Shunsui and Ichigo from the corner of his eyes, Shunsui was staring at the Soutaicho, resting his head on his hand as if it was a casual conversation but it failed to hide the tense line of his body, ready to fight or flee. Ichigo was staring at his hands but his gaze flickered towards the Soutaicho every so often as if he was weighing his options.

“Do you know how many dual zanpaktou have existed in the entire history of the Gotei 13?”

“Zero.”

Jūshirō replied to the heavily weighted question that fell into the air of the office with all the force of a punch. The Soutaicho nodded peering at Jūshirō from beneath his bushy brows as he added, “Until you three, in the same year, all achieved Shikai.”

They shared a look, as if to suggest that it wasn’t their fault, it wasn’t something they could control. After all, how does someone control their soul? Jūshirō wondered what having a dual-natured zanpaktou said about a person. In a sense, Jūshirō could be considered dual-natured, but he identified as he, that was who he was. Maybe it was personality. Shunsui could be fun, loving, and all-around kind but he could be serious and cold as well. Maybe it was whatever Ichigo had going on. Because he was certainly not entirely Shinigami. They just politely didn’t mention it.

“So, what does that mean for us?”

Shunsui questioned tilting his head to look up at the Soutaicho from beneath his curled mess of hair, his eyes were sharp, and his tone appeared casual, safe, in the same manner of a snake waiting to strike. Jūshirō had no doubt that Shunsui was prepared to fight at that very moment if he needed to.

The Soutaicho raised an appraising brow and leaned back in his chair staring at the three of them for a long moment before he replied, “I have already contacted your family, they will be coming to meet us, however, I would like to consider offering a mentorship of sorts to the three of you. There is no one in the academy or any of the divisions with the skill-set needed for your training. I will not see the future talent of the Gotei 13 squandered and you three all have great potential.”

Jūshirō stared and stared stuck in silence and surprise. The Soutaicho wanted to mentor them? The thought seemed absurd and Jūshirō couldn’t quite wrap his head around it nor the fact that his parents would soon be here and would be meeting Ichigo for the first time. Jūshirō took a slow breath in and attempted to settle his thoughts as he glanced at his partners. Shunsui was sitting straight staring at the Soutaicho with an open expression that shuttered between shock and disbelief. Ichigo, on the other hand, was still, his face was closed off but Jūshirō knew Ichigo, and he could see the crease of his brow the way his fingers tightened. Part of Jūshirō worried for a moment that Ichigo was having another flashback but he was still blinking, and he shifted in his seat to stare at Jūshirō for a long moment with a ghost of a smile.

“Truly?”

Shunsui questioned softly, the word tender and a bit uncertain. The Soutaicho stared at the three of them, each of them in turn, for a long moment with a pensive expression before he replied, “Yes. I see great potential in all of you. I will soon be retiring from the position of headmaster of this school to focus on the management of the Gotei 13. But I would like to mentor the three of you. And, if you are willing, when you graduate, I would like you to join the First Division. Do not trouble yourself with that decision at the moment. But I would like to know if you are willing to be my students.”

Jūshirō glanced at Shunsui and Ichigo a silent conversation passed between the three of them. This was a chance that would never be offered again, a chance to not only learn how to wield their zanpaktou but to be trained by the strongest Shinigami in Soul Society. It was an easy decision even if they all knew it would be far from easy.

“We would be honoured to accept your offer.”

Jūshirō said with a bow of his head that the others mimicked. The Soutaicho smiled, the expression stripped away the harsh lines of his face and made his eyes soft and warm like a fire in the winter as he nodded and replied, “Good, we need only speak with your parents now.”

The Soutaicho’s eyes flickered to Ichigo with something like grief, and Jūshirō felt it echo in his own chest. Ichigo had no family to consult about this, there was no one writing letters to him asking about his work and his grades and how he was faring. But it was okay. They would be there for Ichigo, they wouldn’t let him be alone.

A knock sounded on the heavy door behind them and it swung open a moment later to admit their parents. Jūshirō couldn’t help the way his heart did a little jolt in his chest like a static shock when he saw his parents. It had been months since last they had seen each other excluding only a brief greeting at a noble function. His mother swept her way into the office with a graceful smile, and his father followed his steps heavy and every motion like an avalanche.

Shunsui’s parents followed behind, his mother strolled in with a casual elegance and grace that was all the nature of a coiled viper, his father followed casually behind observing everything with a raised brow.

Jūshirō rose to his feet and his mother swept forward and wrapped her arms around him, it was home again, the gentle smell of lilac, the feel of her hair the same as his own as she tightened her arms around him. After a moment, Jūshirō pulled back and turned to his father who nodded once and that was that. They would probably never have an excellent relationship but Jūshirō was okay with that.

“So, this is the Ichigo I’ve heard so much about!”

His mother said as she turned and spotted Ichigo, who looked incredibly awkward and was studying his hands as if that might save him from meeting their parents. At the mention of his name, he glanced up and blushed tucking his head into his chest even as he rose and bowed in greeting to both of their families.

“Oh, he is cute, I can see why you like him Jūshirō.”

His mother commented as she leaned into his side with a knowing grin. Jūshirō blushed and resisted the urge to whine his mother’s name as he closed his eyes in resignation. When he looked up, Shunsui’s mother was studying Ichigo with a raised brow and crossed arms, she glanced at her son once and nodded, in a low voice she said, “I approve.”

He wondered how their parents already knew about their relationship. Jūshirō had long suspected that his parents and Shunsui’s had been in collusion about their inevitable marriage. Ichigo was probably a pleasant surprise. But to see it in person was still something.

Shaking his head, Jūshirō guided his mother to his seat, and Shunsui did the same. The Soutaicho had watched everything with a passive expression, but Jūshirō was certain he had glimpsed a spark of amusement in the dark eyes of the man behind the desk.

“Now that we are all gathered, I’d like to speak to you about your sons. I’d like to offer an apprenticeship to the three of them, and when they graduate from the academy for them to join the First Division.”

His mother clasped her hands over her mouth her eyes wide, his father raised a brow and made a vague noncommittal hum. Shunsui’s mother nodded as if this was totally expected and his father leaned further back in his chair.

“That would be acceptable.”

“Really? Oh, this is excellent! I’m so proud of all of you.”

His mother said after Shunsui’s mother, staring at the three of them with eyes that were quite literally shining. Jūshirō glanced at his partners, Shunsui was grinning, Ichigo was blushing, the bright red covered his cheeks and he was resolutely not looking at either of them.

“Are there any fees?”

Shunsui’s father questioned with a tilt of his head and a yawn. Jūshirō’s father stiffened slightly as if he was offended by the thought of having to pay money. He probably was. The Soutaicho shook his head and responded, “No. They all show great potential and it is important that they are trained to their full potential for the good of Soul Society.”

Their fathers nodded as if this made perfect sense. Shunsui’s mother pursed her lips but she looked pleased and Jūshirō’s mother was beaming happily her hands clasped together over her chest.

“Is there anything else you would like to discuss?”

Jūshirō’s father asked with a respectful tilt of his head, his eyes flickered briefly to Jūshirō and for a moment he thought he could see something like pride there. It flushed warmth through his chest and Jūshirō tilted his eyes away from his father to Ichigo who flashed a small understanding smile his way.

“Hmm no. Thank you for coming. I will be seeing you three tomorrow in the evening in the South dojo.”

The Soutaicho replied with a nod, finishing with a pointed glance, and their parents bowed before rising to their feet. Sharing a grin with Shunsui, Jūshirō gently hooked his hand in Ichigo’s and tugged him to his feet, he spared a quick bow in the Soutaicho’s direction before he led Ichigo and Shunsui into the hallway following their parents.

“Why don’t we all go out for lunch together? Then we can get to know Ichigo and we can start planning the wedding!”

Jūshirō’s mother chirruped with a clap of her hands as she turned around. He couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. Jūshirō groaned silently into his hands even as Shunsui’s mother nodded and replied, “That would be acceptable.”

Trading a knowing look with Shunsui, Jūshirō hooked his arms through Ichigo’s and followed his mother. When she was on the warpath there was no way to stop her. Ichigo glanced between the two of them with a solemn expression for a long moment before he shrugged and smiled slightly. Everything would turn out okay.

X

Jūshirō wasn’t quite certain what woke him, everything was dark around him, half shades of grey and indistinct furniture. It was late, or early and he was warm beneath the covers and the tangled limbs of his boyfriends. His head was resting somewhere on Shunsui’s chest and he could hear his heavy heartbeat, his arm was wrapped around Jūshirō’s waist while his leg hung off the side of the bed. Ichigo was curled on his side facing Jūshirō, his legs were tangled with Jūshirō’s and his arms were crossed over his chest. It was silent there in the space between waking and the only thing Jūshirō could hear was the soft whisper of their breathing filling the room and the creak of a floorboard. He blinked and stared at the ceiling wondering.

His thoughts drifted idly by, simple contemplations about the next day and deep questions about the future and life that he didn’t think about. Everything was still and like a dream, drifting through his fingers in between one breath and the next and all he could feel was his own exhaustion and the beating of his heart.

A whimper broke the science. Jūshirō tensed and his gaze swept around the room, searching, before landing on his partners. Shunsui was still asleep. In the half-light, his skin was almost golden and the stubble lining his jaw were shadows. He turned to Ichigo. His features were scrunched together, his brows furrowed, and his fingers were clasped into the sheets, he was pale, and his body trembled, a fine motion that was barely visible.

“Please… no… I’m sorry… please.”

Ichigo whispered the words soft, barely there as if they didn’t quite exist, and they were lined with pain, a grief so deep that Jūshirō could feel it to the marrow of his bones. Part of him desperately wanted to know what Ichigo was apologizing for, the rest of him already knew it wasn’t his fault. Jūshirō pushed himself to his elbows unsure of what to do, how to help Ichigo. Everything was fuzzy in that space between waking but Jūshirō knew that he was having a nightmare, trapped in his own mind, replaying a collection of your worst memories.

“Don’t go… please… I’m sorry…why?”

Ichigo spoke again, and he sounded young, so young, his head tossed back against the pillows and sweat beaded his brow, his body was tense and shaking and, in the darkness, he looked incredibly fragile like he would break with a single kiss. Shunsui shifted behind him, the cover moving with him, and Jūshirō’s eyes flickered over his shoulder to meet bleary brown eyes that were dark and deep in the half-light.

He quirked a brow, and one hand reached out searching and slid over Jūshirō’s shoulder in a familiar motion that sent shivers down his spine. Jūshirō shook his head with a frown and tilted his head at Ichigo who was mumbling, words falling out in a litany, in an intangible prayer.

Shunsui frowned, it was slow, as he rolled over and peered at Ichigo, his expression shuttered and Jūshirō could almost see the same heartbreak he felt in his own chest there. His brown eyes stared into Jūshirō’s own, lost as their partner suffered beside them in the same bed only a touch away.

They had both known Ichigo had trauma, something from his past that weighed him down, dragged at his steps, haunted mind. But knowing and seeing were two different things. And even more, was knowing how to help and feeling helpless.

Ichigo whimpered and Jūshirō shifted forward, he couldn’t let him suffer, not when he was there. He didn’t touch Ichigo, he sat close to him and called his name, waited, and called his name again. It did nothing. Jūshirō was hesitant to touch Ichigo, he knew of how those Shinigami who had experienced war could lash out, even at those they loved.

Shunsui’s hand settled on his shoulder and Jūshirō inhaled taking a deep breath he rested his hands lightly on Ichigo’s shoulders and called his name shaking him slightly and tapping gently on his cheek. Ichigo stiffened the moment Jūshirō touched him, his reaitsu filled the air in a sharp spike, like a flower with thorns, but it didn’t act as Jūshirō attempted to wake his partner.

Suddenly and all too abruptly, Ichigo jolted forward, his breath was ragged, his eyes were wide and wild, his hands grasped at the sheets and he wasn’t there. Jūshirō made a soft shushing noise and reassured Ichigo, spoke his name, told him he was safe, was with them, Shunsui was a heavy weight against his spine his reaitsu filled the room in lilting waves, like a boat at sea. Jūshirō laced his fingers over Ichigo’s and waited as brown eyes slowly focused and he blinked his breath slowing.

“Jūshirō?”

He questioned with a croak turning his head to stare at the two of them with a confused tilt of his head. Jūshirō leaned forward and placed his hand on Ichigo’s cheek, looked into his eyes and nodded, “We’re here Ichigo. You’re here.”

Ichigo shuddered, a whole-body motion and his head tilted forward to rest against the dip between Jūshirō’s shoulder and head, his breath skittered across his collar bone and he could feel his fingers tighten around Jūshirō’s hand. The bed dipped behind him and then slowly Shunsui was behind Ichigo stroking a hand carefully through his hair and over his shoulders as Ichigo shook, and his breath rustled and ran away.

After a time that was intangible, that could have been hours or minutes, Ichigo pulled back, there were tears on his cheeks and his lips were trembling, but his eyes were clear again. They were clear in a way that couldn’t hide the grief. Jūshirō muffled a sigh that was sadness and exhaustion and everything else as he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to Ichigo’s. His hands, larger than Jūshirō’s own threaded through the pale strands of his hair and the tension, at last, fled his body as Shunsui’s arms encircled Ichigo’s chest.

Pulling apart gasping for breath, Jūshirō studied his partners in the pale light of his room, Ichigo was like carved marble, and his chest was bare, pale scars glimmering like silk. He ran his fingers lightly over the large scar crossing his chest, over the pockmark on his hip, the scratch on his chin. Ichigo shuddered and his eyes were lidded as he stared at Jūshirō, his hair spilling across his shoulders like a curtain.

Shunsui curled over his shoulder, his skin was like gold, like the sunset, and his eyes glimmered beneath the halo of his curls, dark and all-consuming in the earliness of their now. Jūshirō’s fingers trailed over Ichigo’s shoulder to Shunsui and over the stubble lining his jaw, the slant of his nose, the feather of his eyelashes, and into the messy curls as he guided Shunsui forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Gentle fingers, light as a summer breeze brushed over his shoulders, over his collarbones, and traced the silvery scars under his chest. Jūshirō muffled an instinctive flinch at the touch and looked into Ichigo’s eyes. He was smiling at Jūshirō, all soft and gentle as his fingers trailed down his sides in a ticklish motion, over the jut of his hip bones and rested there, warmth and life and everything captured between those two hands.

Shunsui’s hands drifted forward, over the bridge of Ichigo’s shoulders and brushed along his jaw, over the scars on his chest and he sighed and said, “Beautiful.”

Jūshirō blushed at the words, it was unstoppable, a part of him that had desperately craved acceptance for so long shuddered in his chest and he tilted his head down to hide the depth of his emotions. Ichigo leaned forward, placed his fingers under Jūshirō’s chin and tilted his head up so that he could stare into those warm brown eyes and added, “It’s true.”

At the same moment, Shunsui’s knowing fingers trailed over his ribs and laughter escaped his lips, and there were tears in his eyes. He wiped them away with a huff, pushing his bangs out of his eyes he responded, “You both are beautiful too.”

Shunsui grinned and happily splayed his hands out over the thin expanse of Ichigo’s chest, all exposed ribs and abs, his fingers trailing over scars and unmarked flesh (of which there was little). Ichigo blushed, the crimson on his pale skin was like fire in the darkness and Jūshirō couldn’t help but lean forward with a laugh on his breath to press kisses to each of his cheeks.

If it was possible, Ichigo’s blush deepened, and Jūshirō could see Shunsui’s wide grin over his shoulder. Their boyfriend was adorable. One of Shunsui’s hands wandered away from Ichigo’s chest and into Jūshirō’s hair, running through the fine strands as Jūshirō pressed kisses over the bridge of Ichigo’s nose, the curve of his cheeks, the flutter of his eyelids, the curve of his jaw, the pass of his forehead.

“You okay?”

Jūshirō questioned softly sweeping one hand through the choppy strands of orange hair. Ichigo paused, hesitant, and for a moment there was no air in the room, and no one was breathing anyway. He nodded.

Ichigo pressed his head into the curve of Jūshirō’s neck, tangled his fingers in Shunsui’s golden ones and replied, “Yeah. I will be.”

They would all be okay. Because they loved each other for their flaws, for everything in between, they weren’t perfect and that was okay.

X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter it was really fun and emotional to write. Also, Jūshirō’s mom is awesome. The next chapter is the last in this part, sadly, but there will be a second part eventually (hopefully). Reviews/comments are always appreciated, till next time!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! We are finally here for the last chapter in this part of the fic. A huge thank you to everyone who reviewed and supported the author, ya’ll were what made writing this fic fun. Read on and enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo

X

Jūshirō ducked underneath a swathe of fire that cut through the air with a wave of heat that dried the breath in his lungs and scorched his skin with all the force of the desert sun. Immediately, Jūshirō entered into a quick flash-step pushing himself harder and faster with reaitsu humming through his veins as he swung towards the Soutaicho. Ichigo’s reaitsu presence burst into life beside him, bright and impossible to ignore, Jūshirō caught a flash of a grin out of the corner of his eyes, and already knew what Ichigo was planning.

His zanpaktou were clenched in his hands and the long blade caught the light of the sun above them in a strange manner as if it was consuming it. Jūshirō grinned and nodded, darting behind the Soutaicho as Shunsui fought with his katana, who wasn’t quite allowed to use his Shikai abilities when they were sparring together due to the nature of it; it included enemies and allies alike. But once Shunsui had trained with the abilities in private and with the Soutaicho they would train together.

Jūshirō raised Sōgyo no Kotowari above his head and brought the left blade down above the Soutaicho’s head. The old man whirled around at the last second, after forcing Shunsui back with a sweep of his elbow, and landed the hilt of his sword in Jūshirō’s stomach forcing him into the rough bark of a tree. Jūshirō gasped out a harsh breath as he slammed into the tree and attempted to blink dark spots that danced and bounced out of his vision. Ichigo stood across from the Soutaicho, his reaitsu furrowed around him deep waves of black and he grinned, a terrifying grin, and called out, “Getsuga Tensho!”

Black reaitsu surged from his blade, sweeping through the clearing in an all-consuming wave, swathing everything in a blanket of darkness. It was heavy and Jūshirō instinctively tucked his reaitsu around him as he did whenever Ichigo showed even a fraction of his power. Pale fire sparked, like the first touches of dawn on the horizon, like liquid gold, and the wall was cut in half by a slice of fire that charred the ground and burnt the air. Jūshirō stumbled to his feet and coughed at the dry weight of the air pulling at his skin and irritating his eyes even as he couldn’t take his gaze away from the display of power.

“They always get like this.”

Shunsui complained with a pout and a flap of his hand as he leaned against a tree beside Jūshirō, he was panting, the sleeves of his shihakusho had long been burned off, sweat glistened on his brow and curled in his damp hair. Jūshirō stared unabashedly for a moment before he nodded and returned his attention to Ichigo and the Soutaicho.

It was true. They had both known that Ichigo was talented at Zanjutsu, that he could probably defeat their teachers in a spar with ease. But watching him fight the Soutaicho with his Shikai was a whole different story, it was less a spar and more a beautiful and devastating dance, one that always utterly destroyed the surrounding area.

Ichigo was powerful, it was a fact that thrummed through his very veins and filled the air in a tangible aura if he let it, it glowed in his eyes, filled his voice, echoed in his steps. But he was also kind, and quiet, and deep so, it was easy to miss. The Soutaicho carried the same commanding presence, the same well of power, but he burned with something old, inevitable, unchangeable, ineffable. And when they fought it was hard to tell who would win.

The thought alone was vaguely terrifying, that their partner was as strong as the Soutaicho. But at the same time, it was reassuring because Ichigo wasn’t capable of evil, not in the slightest, and above all, he protected his family. They just needed to protect him.

Their battles were always a mix of fire and reaitsu that caved towards the skies in pillars of light, the Soutaicho was old and had been fighting for centuries, but Ichigo was fast, inventive, and had an overwhelming reserve of reaitsu. The rest of Soul Society was suitably confused by what was occurring.

Suffice to say, when they decided to fight each other seriously Jūshirō and Shunsui elected to make the wise decision to stay on the sidelines. Jūshirō already suspected that outside of their scheduled lessons with the Soutaicho, that Ichigo went out to spar with the old man, to test his skills in a way he couldn’t against anyone else. The Soutaicho probably liked it just as much even if he complained about impudent brats.

Jūshirō coughed a tickle in his throat making itself known as he rubbed his fingers over his arms and attempted to catch his breath. Even amidst the heat filling the air it was easy to feel cold. Shunsui flashed Jūshirō a concerned look and stepped closer, his eyes sweeping over his body to search for visible injuries and his hands covered Jūshirō’s so that he could feel the callouses on his palms.

“I’m fine Shu, well as fine as anyone can be in the midst of a battle between these two.”

Jūshirō placated his partner adjusting his grasp on Sōgyo no Kotowari’s hilts as he watched the two clashed against each other with a shriek and hiss of metal that sent sparks flying into the air and cracked the ground around them. Shunsui laughed, that deep laugh from deep inside his chest that never failed to put a smile on Jūshirō’s features and nodded.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine ever being that skilled with a zanpaktou.”

“Well the Soutaicho has been training for ten centuries or so, and Ichigo is a prodigy so I think that’s an unfair assessment.”

Jūshirō replied patting Shunsui on the cheek with a small smile. Shunsui chuckled and leaned to place a kiss on his cheek with a dramatic sound that prompted Jūshirō to roll his eyes at his boyfriend’s actions. Shunsui only laughed and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest while holding his zanpaktou in his hands.

They were terrifying to watch, if only for how fast they moved. Jūshirō could only barely see anything and he knew it wasn’t because he was powerful enough to see them, they were going purposefully slower so that they could see their fight, the Soutaicho probably hoped they would learn something from it.

Ichigo ducked under the Soutaicho’s blade, he brought his smaller blade, the trench knife, up underneath the old man’s guard only to be forced to swing back as the blade appeared in his other hand. Ichigo grinned and crossed his blades over his chest releasing a wave of reaitsu in the shape of an x that cut through the air only to catch against the Soutaicho’s blade, forcing the old man back a step before he used flash-step and disappeared. He reappeared behind Ichigo, fire cocooning their friend and charring the grass in a circle around where Ichigo had once stood.

For a moment, worry lodged itself in his throat and churned in the pit of his stomach, it was illogical because he knew the Soutaicho would never intentionally hurt any of them permanently, bruises on the hand were fine, but he couldn’t help but feel worried about Ichigo. Then the fire died away, for a moment Ichigo’s skin glinted pale white, and Jūshirō wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light or real. He wasn’t sure what it meant if it was real.

He turned his head, his orange hair bright against the mass of charred black foliage behind him as he grinned at the two of them and called out, “Are you going to come help? Or do I have to fight the Soutaicho alone?”

“Oh, is it safe to do that now?”

Shunsui called back with a raised brow and a shit-eating grin that made Jūshirō roll his eyes. Ichigo tilted his head back and laughed, free in a way he couldn’t be in the academy, in a classroom setting. Ichigo only lived when he was fighting or with them.

“Yeah, we’ll keep the earth-shattering stuff to a minimum.”

Ichigo replied and the Soutaicho stared at the three of them with a raised brow that perfectly conveyed how unimpressed he was, it didn’t really hurt because Jūshirō could see the fondness beneath it. Shunsui uncrossed his arms with a gusty drooping sigh before he straightened and grinned at Jūshirō. He grinned back and together they disappeared in a burst of shunpo appearing on opposite sides of the Soutaicho with their blades raised.

The old man huffed and in one fluid motion, landed a kick to Shunsui’s gut and caught Jūshirō’s blade against his own. Jūshirō strained against the strength of the Soutaicho for a moment before he sensed Ichigo and sprung back and adjusted his grip on Sōgyo no Kotowari.

Ichigo caught the Soutaicho’s blade and Shunsui appeared from behind only to have his blades crash against Ichigo’s as the Soutaicho slipped from between the two. Shunsui and Ichigo turned as one to face the Soutaicho and while the old man was distracted Jūshirō channelled his reaitsu and moved behind the old man. The Soutaicho blocked an overhead strike from Shunsui and with a crackle of flames fire sprung up along his blade and he swung it in a wide circle around himself.

The fire blazed towards Jūshirō, hot and crackling, and he could feel it in his lungs even as he took a deep breath and raised his zanpaktou activating their Shikai ability to the joyful cheering of his spirits. The fire was absorbed into to the steel mirrors and Jūshirō could feel it trembling through his blades, threatening to overwhelm him, consume him if he wasn’t cautious, as he added his own reaitsu and released the fire back at the Soutaicho.

The old man turned and caught the blaze on his own blade and there was something proud in his expression as the fire dispersed into the air. Shunsui and Ichigo took advantage of the distraction and struck at the same time working together in an attempt to get past the Soutaicho’s defence.

Jūshirō swayed on his feet, the heat in the air felt like too much and yet his skin felt too cold, his throat itched, and his lungs burned and couldn’t help the coughs that spilt from his lips as he sunk to his knees. A tremor swept itself through his body and Jūshirō had a moment of hazy realisation that he was having another attack, that his lungs apparently had disliked the dry air.

It felt as if it had appeared out of nowhere, without reason. But Jūshirō could trace his own mistakes, could see every moment as he coughed when he had dismissed the pain in his lungs for exhaustion, exertion, anything but what it was. It hadn’t happened in training before.

In the background, Jūshirō noticed that the sounds of sparring had halted but his vision was tunnelling around him and all he could focus on were the wet coughs wracking his chest and pooling blood in his mouth. It hurt, burned through his chest, pounded in his head, was like bile in his throat, and each cough grated on his nerves and all he could smell was blood.

Warm, too warm, hands wrapped themselves around Jūshirō’s shoulders, he could vaguely hear someone calling his name but above the rush of blood, it was inaudible, like hearing something from underwater. Two hands cradled his jaw as Jūshirō coughed and coughed, someone rubbed circles into his spine and he could hear a conversation, but he couldn’t understand, could only taste the bitter tang of copper on his tongue.

A few minutes later the coughs subsided, Jūshirō’s chest itched, he wanted to peel away the skin there, to escape his own lungs, but he could breathe again even if it rattled in his ribcage, and he took deep lung-heaving grasps of air and tried to ignore the taste of blood on his tongue. When he peered through his bangs it was into Shunsui’s warm brown eyes, his hands cradled Jūshirō’s jaw and concern furrowed his brow, pulled at his lips and shattered his expression, he could feel Ichigo behind him, his hands settled a weight on his shoulders grounding him to the moment, to them.

Shunsui passed him a piece of damp cloth and Jūshirō wiped away the blood he could feel, too warm on his cheeks and dripping down his chin as he leaned back against Ichigo, whose arms didn’t hesitate to encircle his torso. They stared at him and he could see the Soutaicho watching the three of them with crossed arms that failed to hide the tense line of the man’s shoulders and the way his large brows were furrowed.

“I’m okay.”

Jūshirō tried to reassure his partners through the pain in his throat and the dull nausea sitting at the bottom of his stomach. He felt weak, but he always felt weak after an attack, like everything had been sucked out and left just a husk. He could tell they didn’t quite believe him, Shunsui’s lips did that little quirk that meant he totally knew Jūshirō was lying but was placating him regardless as he nodded, and his eyes crinkled with a touch of a smile.

The Soutaicho settled on the ground beside Shunsui with a huff of air, crossing his legs and staring at the three of them with a bemused air he said, “You all did well today, Shunsui watch your left side you often let your guard down, Ichigo stop showing off for Jūshirō and Shunsui, Jūshirō you did well but try to be aware of your own limitations. As a Shinigami, we do not have the option to turn away from battle, but it is important to be aware of our own limitations so that we do not cause greater harm. Impudent brats.”

The Soutaicho finished with a scoff that couldn’t quite hide the man’s smile as he stared ahead with a blank expression. Jūshirō tilted his head up to stare at his partners, Ichigo was blushing his mouth opened and closed for a moment before he decided on pinning the Soutaicho with a glare. Shunsui was nodding, but his fingers threaded through Jūshirō’s tightened and Jūshirō could almost hear his unsaid words.

The Soutaicho stared at the three of them for a long moment and Jūshirō wondered if he was going to tell them a story, history and a lesson all in one. Occasionally, during their lessons, they didn’t spar, the Soutaicho would sit at his desk, or outside, or in the courtyard, and he’d talk about diplomacy or laws or paperwork. And sometimes he would talk about Soul Society’s history.

He nodded once to himself and slowly rose to his feet, the Soutaicho’s joints cracked and Jūshirō was forced to recall that the Soutaicho was old. He stared at his three students for a long moment before he bowed and said, “I will leave you three to your own devices for now. I will see you all tomorrow for the ceremony.”

“Bye old man!”

Shunsui called out with a bright grin and a wave that couldn’t hide the tense line of his shoulders as the Soutaicho disappeared from the clearing and the scent of fire and smoke drifted lazily through the air. Ichigo’s fingers threaded gently through his hair and Jūshirō leaned his head back against Ichigo’s chest and listened to his heartbeat. They were all sweaty and could probably at least do with a change of clothing, but it was okay for the moment.

“Can you believe we’re graduating tomorrow?”

Shunsui questioned as he tilted forward and rested his head on Jūshirō’s lap and stared up at him with those deep brown eyes. Jūshirō shook his head and heard the huff of Ichigo’s laughter behind his chest and in his heart.

“Time always goes by so fast. One day we might all be captains and the next in a senior home.”

Jūshirō replied trailing his fingers over the stubble lining Shunsui’s jaw, over the curve of his cheeks, the slant of his nose. Shunsui hummed even as Ichigo shifted slightly and responded, “That’s what makes like important. You have to cherish the time you have and live it to the fullest.”

He tipped his head back and looked into the deep brown of Ichigo’s eyes, they were the kind of eyes that were endless and old beyond their years and Jūshirō felt as if he could get lost quite easily. He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Ichigo’s cheek agreeing with his statement. Jūshirō knew his life was fragile, that everything was so incredibly fragile, but that was what made it good.

X

The ceremony was dry and dull, a procession of pomp and circumstance all accompanied by long-winded meandering speeches about the future of Soul Society and excellence. Shunsui seated beside Jūshirō shifted and pressed his fingers against Jūshirō’s wrist while his other hand played with the fabric of his shihakusho. The current speaker was the administrator, whatever that meant, and had been speaking for the past twenty minutes. They were all growing impatient.

As lack of attention from the crowd, and perhaps the murderous aura from a few people, made itself apparent the administrator finished with a bow and joined the other seated guests on the almost stage at the front of the hallway. If Jūshirō searched he could see his Kido teacher seated beside their Hakuda teacher speaking quietly to each other.

Ichigo on the other side of Jūshirō shifted and muttered under his breath, he looked a minute away from leaving the room in the middle of it all. Jūshirō couldn’t quite blame him. Instead, he settled his hand over Ichigo’s and quirked a smile at his partner as he observed the unorganized chaos around them.

There was no assigned seating, students milled in whatever space was available, and a cool wind whipped through the room but did little to dispel the thick heat of the late summer. Jūshirō was glad they weren’t forced to attend the reception afterwards. It was just an excuse to meet important people and put your name out there. They didn’t really need to do that.

Even now, Jūshirō could feel eyes on the three of them, students, parents, Shinigami, everyone was curious about the trio of dual-blade zanpaktou. News always spread fast. It settled uncomfortably in his chest, the attention, the sudden weight and expectations. They had been regarded as prodigies of a sort before, but now they were the top of the academy. Shunsui, of course, enjoyed the attention, preened under the spotlight but Ichigo was like Jūshirō and he had the tendency to disappear without warning when faced with it.

The speaker, a teacher of some lesson or other, finished speaking and for a moment hushed murmurs, that weren’t at all hushed, filled the room as the Soutaicho rose to his feet and stepped up to the podium. In the pale light of the sunlight filtering in through the windows, he looked like a statue, something untouchable.

“Good afternoon everyone, I would like to thank you all for attending our ceremony. This is the moment where a class of students become the future of Soul Society, become Shinigami who uphold the values of chivalry, honour, and respect. I have served this academy for many years, and I have seen many students pass through these halls, some have become captains, some lieutenants, and some are no longer with us. And now, I shall be retiring from these halls, it is time that I focus my attention on the Gotei 13, in my place will be the new headmaster, Yukimura.”

The Soutaicho bowed and stepped away from the platform to a silence so thick Jūshirō could hear his own heartbeat. As the old man stepped away, he looked towards the three of them and nodded once as his replacement stepped forward.

“Yam-jii really did it huh?”

Shunsui commented with a shrug as he slung his arm over Jūshirō’s shoulder. At the same moment, the silence burst in a single roar and conversation filled the air, it was loud and Jūshirō turned to Ichigo who was sitting straight and stiff, his body a tense line. Jūshirō pressed his shoulder against Ichigo’s own and tried to convey that the speeches were almost over. Then it would just be the calling of the names and all the stuff that went with that. Then they would be Shinigami.

It felt strange, to think that once this ceremony was over, they would be Shinigami. They had been in school for what felt like a century and the end goal had always been visible but now it was right in front of him and Jūshirō couldn’t quite believe it.

The new headmaster coughed once, and the crowd fell silent, Yukimura was an imposing woman with a halo of bright hair and a smile that could blind. Jūshirō wished the future students of the academy well. She began to speak, something to appease the parents or inform the Shinigami. Jūshirō tuned it out and studied the pale grain of the chair in front of him.

“I wish they would just finish already. I hate ceremonies, always too formal.”

Ichigo complained quietly curving his fingers around Jūshirō’s as he tilted his head slightly to stare up at the front of the hallway. Shunsui chuckled on the other side of Jūshirō and peered around his shoulders to see Ichigo as he added, “What do you expect, got to inflate their ego somehow.”

“Shush both of you, it’s almost over and then we can go and get piss drunk.”

Jūshirō replied with a roll of his eyes as a teacher patrolled the hallway and flashed a vitriolic glare in their direction. Shunsui raised one brow and shook his head but it failed to hide his grin as he responded, “I’ll drink to that.”

Ichigo giggled under his breath and Jūshirō shook his head at his boyfriends as the new headmaster finished her speech to a smattering of applause. Tilting his head Jūshirō said, “Looks like we’re up.”

A teacher walked forward with a very long scroll in their arms and began to call out names. The first student entered the stage, bowed to the Soutaicho and the new headmaster and exited the stage, the next student did the same except she was seventh in their class overall. So, it went, so on and so forth and Jūshirō shifted uncomfortably and resisted the urge to yawn, Shunsui didn’t even manage that.

Ichigo was the first to go up, he clambered over their feet and walked forward with his head held high, his hair was like a halo around his head and Jūshirō couldn’t quite think for a moment as he stared at his partner. Ichigo paused to speak to the Soutaicho for a moment and then he was walking down the aisle and the next name was called. Shunsui went up next, grinned at the Soutaicho and slumped into his seat with a wink. Jūshirō rolled his eyes and when his name was called, he stepped forward, bowed to the new headmaster and stared into the Soutaicho’s dark eyes.

Then it was over.

They piled outside of the hall, Jūshirō briefly glanced through the sea of faces for their parents but knew it wasn’t likely they would find them. But that was what the family dinner was for the next week, even if Ichigo was still kicking up a fuss about it. They were still going to drag him to it.

Shunsui led the way, off to the familiar old willow tree squished out of the way of passing traffic, it’s leaves shuffled and whispered in the sunlight as they piled beneath its shade. They sat together in silence for a long time, watching as the grass swayed in the breeze and the Shinigami and families left the academy in small clusters.

Ichigo laughed, a free, wild, sort of laugh that filled the air. It was bright, it was spontaneous, and it was irresistible, Jūshirō leaned forward and placed his hands on Ichigo’s cheeks and pulled him into a kiss with a grin. Ichigo laughed against his lips and tangled his fingers in Jūshirō’s hair before he pulled back and slumped in the grass. Shunsui’s calloused hands turned Jūshirō’s head with a pleading look and with a laugh he pressed kisses to his cheeks.

They were done. They were Shinigami. It didn’t feel real, but it was true. It was scary, exhilarating, worrying, and exciting all at once and it swarmed through his chest like liquid sunshine, like a piece of pottery baking on the shore. Shunsui grinned placed a bottle of sake between them, Ichigo rolled over to stare at it with a lazy quirk of his lips that shouldn’t have been so attractive and said, “Good thing there’s no class tomorrow.”

Jūshirō laughed and nodded with a wry smile, Shunsui grinned and opened the bottle taking a sip before passing it to Jūshirō. The sake was sharp on his tongue and Jūshirō hummed at the warmth in his chest as he passed it to Ichigo.

“You think we’ll do good?”

Shunsui asked directing the question at Ichigo, who was the veritable prophet of their little group. Jūshirō leaned against Shunsui’s side and stared at Ichigo, whose eyes were fixed on the sky above them through the leaves of the tree.

“I’m certain.”

X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! This fic was so much fun to write, I loved exploring their relationship and this AU, a super huge thank you to everyone who commented/reviewed you all made writing this fun! I have no idea when the second part will be written so, for now, this is goodbye. Reviews/comments are always appreciated, thank you all!


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